Recovering the Satellites
by BluEyes
Summary: Season 7. Chandler feels he lost himself somewhere along the way. Randler COMPLETE!
1. Chapter One

Recovering the Satellites

Chapter One

~.~

_Season 7. Haven't pin-pointed an exact episode, but sometime in the spring before the wedding. Chandler's not in much of the last half of the season, so…pretty much take your pick on when, exactly, it takes place :)_

_Oh, and this isn't the Randler fic I was talking about, 'so ya know….It is for sure not Mondler…not sure about Randler... Huh. I'll have to figure that out. It's Chandler-centric. Pretty much, I've had a horrible writers' block lately and am having a hard time getting any of my ideas to materialize in words, so…this came out, in multiple-chapters in one sitting, and I'm going with it. I never understood why people would start soooo many fics at the same time, but I am slowly understanding why. And also understanding why it takes, like, a year (or longer…) to finish some stories. It's called real life, and it takes up a lot of time, ha!_

_Don't own the characters or the song the fic is named after which is by (shock!) Counting Crows. Review and let me know what you think, because I just got a second job (because I'm some sort of crazy, self-loathing workaholic who isn't content unless I'm insanely busy), and it's holiday time in retail, so between that and nannying, I'll be working 6-7 days a week…and, ya know, doing the whole school thing (did I mention only 195 days til gradation? Heck yes!). So, reviews will be very inspiring in order for me to find time to continue….and keeping me sane. Or as sane as I can possibly be._

~.~

Chandler sat alone in the living room of his and Monica's apartment, flipping through the top of many old photo albums he had out on the coffee table. He sighed every once in a while, pausing to take a drink from his glass, before going back to thumbing through his past. He kept promising himself he would finish his current drink and go to bed, but his thoughts just wouldn't have it. His mind wouldn't turn off for the night.

"Hey," Rachel's voice cut into Chandler's thoughts. He nodded in return, not looking up from where he sat in the chair. "Monica working tonight?" Rachel continued when he offered nothing else, and Chandler again nodded, flipping another page in the photo album. "So," she sat down on the couch, but he still didn't answer. "Whatcha doin'?" she tried again, wondering what was wrong. Chandler always had something to say, jokingly at least. Silence was not normally his strong point. In fact, silence made him uncomfortable, so the fact that he didn't feel the need to fill the silence was making her slightly uncomfortable, as well as making her forget her original intent for coming over there.

Chandler sighed, finally sitting back. "Looking through old pictures and stuff," he replied, taking his glasses off as he rubbed his temples.

"You…okay?"

Chandler laughed, taking a drink out of the glass on the table. "Now, there's a question," he mumbled before setting the glass back down. "I don't know," he sighed. "Have you ever, like, stepped back from your life and just…realized how," he trailed off, unsure of how to phrase his current thoughts, "just, how…" he again trailed off, motioning with his hands, as if she would understand that.

Rachel grabbed his glass, smelling it and raising her eyebrows. "Rum and Coke?"

"Rum and Diet Coke," he corrected her. "And, yea, that's my third one of those," he added, again sighing.

"Chandler, are you okay?" Rachel asked, more seriously this time, as she moved to the edge of the couch.

"That's the thing," Chandler started. "Yea, I'm okay. But that's it. Just okay. Not marvelous, not fantastic. Not horrible, but comfortable. Just okay," he rambled, finishing off the rest of the drink before setting it back down. "I talked to my mom the other day, and something she said just got me thinking about …everything in my life. How I've pretty much been living my life by playing to the 'Safety School' side of life," he continued, and Rachel looked at him, inquisitively. "Ya know, the school you apply to in case you don't get in anywhere else? Well, it's like," he sighed again, heavily, "that's how I've lived every, single, aspect of my life," he paused in between words for emphasis. "Only, instead of it being my fall-back plan," he forced a laugh as he continued, "I just never applied anywhere else. I've just lived from Safety School to Safety School.

"And, like I said, it's not like I have a horrible life, it's just like," he chewed on the end of his glasses, leaning forward in his chair. "It's just like…somewhere along the way, with all of the settling, and failing to chase any sort of dream… Somewhere along the line, I completely lost myself," he continued, shifting his weight to lean forward again. "I could have gotten into somewhere other than NYU for college, but, hey not applying anywhere else sure pissed off my mom, so why not," he shrugged. "And I used to write, all the time when I was a kid. I wrote editorials for the school paper in middle school and high school," he dug out one of the scrapbooks, handing it to Rachel, who began flipping through it. "At some point in time, I was _sure_ that's what I'd be doing forever. I mean, I was good at it. Teachers complimented me on it. My mom pretty much beamed that I was following in her footsteps. But once I got out of college, I took this stupid temp job, because it was the first job that came along, and ten years later, here I am. It pays well, good benefits, I'm good at it, they keep promoting me," he shrugged. "What reason, other than absolutely hating it, do I have to quit?" Rachel opened her mouth to speak when he paused, but closed it again, not sure what to say.

Chandler didn't give her a chance to think of anything, though, as he continued his rant, now standing up. "And, god, you, of all people, are not the one to be talking to about this, because you're her best friend, and, I do love her, so don't get me wrong, but Monica kinda fits in with all of that," Chandler began pacing quickly back and forth between the living room and kitchen. "I mean, I've known her forever, she's been one of my best friends for my entire adult life. I've always freaked out about relationships, but, no, she's comfortable. _Comfortable_," he stopped, head in his hands. "God, I do love her, though. But, we're just…we're so _different_. We're complete opposites, other than both being terrifyingly neurotic, which is a great trait to have in common, by the way. And, yea, they always say, 'oh, opposites attract,' but that's not how it really works, is it? People are attracted to people like themselves," he again paused, and Rachel scooted forward on the couch, about to stand up and go over to him, but as soon as she moved, he started pacing again, so she sat back down.

"And, god, she is driving me _crazy_ with all of this wedding stuff. Like, she forgets that I'm even here, that I'm even a part of it at all. She doesn't want my opinion, doesn't even want me to interrupt her when she's on a roll with it. Guess I didn't realize that the groom was such a imposition in a wedding," he looked up, clearly exasperated, these things having been on his mind for quite some time. "And, god, it still drives me crazy that she went to Richard's that night, before we got engaged. I mean, if I was freaking her out so much…why didn't she come to me," he motioned to himself. "If she loves me so much, and I'm supposedly one of her best friends, why wouldn't she come talk to me? That's what relationships are about, right? Communicating?" he asked, continuing in the same path of pacing: five steps towards the living room, five towards the kitchen. "Why would she go over there? Even if she left and nothing happened…. Why did she even need to go see him? Oh, and the engagement picture thing…Okay, I take horrible pictures, but she couldn't have found a decent picture of the two of us from the past ten years? One has to exist somewhere. Instead, there was a picture of her and Joey in the paper for our engagement. It's just…are we both just settling for Safety Schools here?" he continued rambling, stopping pacing in front of the kitchen sink, facing away from Rachel, one hand on each side of the sink as he leaned forward.

Rachel cleared her throat, and when he didn't respond, she took it to mean he was finally done, and spoke softly. "I, uh, are you actually looking for advice here, or just, uh, venting?"

Chandler ignored her question, walking back to the living room and sitting on the couch beside her, pulling the photo albums towards them. "I just feel like…somewhere in the past ten or so years, I lost me," he continued, now softer, not so much mad as he seemed sad. "I feel like I lost who I wanted to be, and just became so focused on playing my role in all the little parts of life. I forgot who _I_ wanted me to be, and not who everyone else wanted me to be. I mean, I feel like I had a better idea of who I was when I was, like, 18 than I do now. I'm 30-years-old, and," he paused, "it's not that I don't know who I am, but…. I don't _recognize_ who I am. I've settled so many times for less than what I, at one point in time, wanted that I just…lost myself," he finished, quietly, still looking at the old photographs. "Have you ever felt like that?" he repeated his earlier question to Rachel, who was now flipping through his old editorial articles.

"Yes," she answered without thinking. "I mean, yes, I've felt that way before. I felt that way when I left Barry," she continued, nodding as she continued to look down. "I'm-I'm not sure what you're wanting me to say to all of that, though," she said softly, looking up and making eye contact. Rachel sighed, looking down once more. "You're right, these are good," she motioned to the articles. "You're pretty funny."

"Took you long enough to notice," he nudged her, and Rachel laughed slightly, closing the scrapbook.

"Look, I don't know if this is what you want to hear, but if you're not happy with your life, you can't make anyone else happy," she looked him in the eye as she spoke to him. "You know how I feel about the job thing, because I've had, what, five different jobs in the seven years since I moved here? Chandler, if you're not happy, and you really have as much money saved up as Phoebe said you have, then quit. Give yourself that little boost you need to find another job, and just quit," Rachel shrugged. "You hate it, just quit."

"But I don't have experience doing anything else. Well, I waited tables in college, but not really what I want to do," he smirked.

"Find an entry-level job and work your way back up, then. And I know that sucks, but…you're gonna be working for the next however many years, might as well enjoy it," Rachel shrugged. "As far as everything else you said," she continued with a sigh. "Like I said, you have to make yourself happy before anyone else. It's not being selfish, it's…realizing that if you don't know what you want in the beginning, so you're not happy, there is no way in hell you can be happy with your life and make someone else happy. I think you need to talk to Mon about that part, though."

Chandler scoffed. "Yea, 'cause I've always had a death wish…."

"Chandler…"

"Yea, I know I need to talk to her," he admitted quietly.

"If you don't, and you just quietly settle for one aspect of your life after another…you'll just end up miserable and bitter and make everyone around you miserable, as well," Rachel continued. "I mean, maybe everything will work out, but…it's better you realize all of this now than, ya know, a few years down the road…" she trailed off, and Chandler nodded.

"I know," he whispered, closing his eyes as he leaned back into the couch.

"Anyway, go to bed. Sleep on it. Sober up."

"I'm not drunk."

"You're not sober."

Chandler conceded with a shrug.

"Anyway, go to bed. Talk to Monica in the morning." Chandler nodded, not getting up. "I think I came over here for something," Rachel looked around, but shrugged after a moment, giving up on her earlier train of though. "Anyway, are you gonna be okay?" she asked, placing a hand on his arm. Chandler again shrugged. "Are you going to bed?"

"Soon," he nodded. "I just need to think some more…."

"Un-sober thinking gets you no where," Rachel stood up. "Go to bed, Chandler," she touched the top of his head affectionately as she walked past the back of the couch. Chandler nodded, closing up the photo albums.

"'Night Rach," he whispered as she walked away.

"Night."

"Uh, Rach?" he added, standing up, and she stopped, turning to face him. "Thank you," he smiled genuinely. "And you're not gonna-"

Rachel shook her head, "It's between you and me."

"Kay. Thank you."

Rachel returned his smile. "Anytime."

~.~

_Uh, probably should have warned that a good half of that was Chandler's little monologue, sorry, haha. He ended up having more feelings to share than I intended ;) And...I'm going somewhere with this. And intending on continuing all of my other fics I have going. Review, please and thanks :)  
_


	2. Chapter Two

Recovering the Satellites

Chapter Two

~.~

_Well, I've never gotten more story alert add's than reviews before, but (shrugs) I'll take it! Either way, it means someone out there is reading what I'm writing, so thanks :)_

~.~

Rachel came home from a long day of retail therapy (Chandler's ranting had caused her to do some thinking of her own the night before) to find mass chaos between apartments nineteen and twnety. The doors to both apartments were wide open, and in her own, Phoebe was trying to coax Joey out of his room, apparently having locked himself in. Rachel dropped her purse on the counter, looking strangely at Phoebe, who offered no explanation, too busy trying to get Joey to come out, before heading over to Monica and Chandler's. In there, it was the complete opposite of the quiet scene in her own apartment. Monica was storming back and forth, throwing Chandler's clothes on the floor of the living room, Ross trying to calm her down.

Chandler wasn't there.

Rachel scanned the room, looking for confirmation that this was just a fight over what Chandler had surely brought up to Monica after her own conversation with him the night before, and that he would be back any minute after she cooled off.

But then why would Joey be so upset?

Monica was now standing, arms crossed, somewhere in between furious and heartbroken as she held back tears, in the doorway to their (her?) bedroom. She ran out of clothes quickly, and Rachel slowly realized it was because he had taken some when he left. Her suspicion of this was further confirmed when she saw Monica's engagement ring and a key on top of a piece of paper on the counter.

He'd been serious the night before.

She never expected him to actually follow through and do anything about what he had rambled about the night before, though he had obviously been upset. Most of what he'd said she'd heard before, and she thought, maybe, maybe he would start looking for a new job or something, even possibly bring up some of the things to Monica, but not…what this scene of an incredibly upset Monica and Joey implied. People talk about those kinds of things all the time without taking action. And Chandler, of all people, did not seem like one to take action on them.

Rachel's head spun, taking in the scene, thinking of no other possibly explanation. "He actually left?" she let slip, and Monica and Ross both turned to her in unison, not having noticed her presence until that moment.

"What do you mean, 'He _actually_ left?'" Monica asked slowly, walking towards her from the bedroom.

"I, um, I," Rachel stumbled over her words. Had Chandler talked to Monica, or just taken off?

"What did he say to you?" Monica again asked, almost pleading as she stopped directly in front of her.

Rachel swallowed the knot in her throat, but echoed Monica's question back to her. "What did-what did he say to _you_?"

~.~

Chandler blinked away tears as he got into the cab and out of the still-chilly early spring air, pulling his suitcase and a small duffel bag in with him. "LaGuardia," he mumbled, not sure why he picked that specific airport, but knowing that he needed to leave before he changed his mind, though he wasn't sure exactly where he was going. Going to where either of his parents was actually crossed his mind, but he shook that thought off quickly. Dealing with them wasn't what he needed to do at the moment.

The night before, he had actually done what Rachel suggested. He went to bed, and the next day, after Monica got up, he talked to her. He told her how he felt he'd lost himself, and he'd told her more or less (well, he gave her the _Reader's Digest_ version, not wanting to hurt her more than necessary) the same thing he'd told Rachel the night before.

She had yelled. Well, first she told him he was being typical Chandler, and that this was some bullshit cold-feet thing or some early mid-life crisis or something, and she thought he'd moved past all of these stupid commitment issues. And when he had calmly explained his feelings further, using Rachel's words about how he couldn't make anyone else happy if he didn't know what he wanted and he wasn't happy, she had yelled and cried and told him that if that was how he really felt, and that's how he really felt about her, to just leave. She threw her engagement ring at him, hard, and it hit him square in the forehead before landing on the floor with a loud 'clang.' She told him to keep it, turned on her heel, and told him he better get the hell out by the time she got back because she wasn't sure what he could do to fix this.

So, he did.

He knew she was mad and overreacting, but he also knew that she was Monica, and Monica had to have things Monica's way, and what he was telling her was definitely not playing that game. So, he packed. He threw most of his clothes into his largest suitcase, packing necessities, as many of his CDs and books as he could fit, and then stuffing his laptop into his briefcase, slinging it over his shoulder after grabbing a jacket. He scribbled a note, apologizing, saying he wished she could understand where he was coming from, and set her ring on top of it, wanting her to keep it, along with his key.

And then he left. He hailed a cab quicker than he ever had before in his life, not wanting to face anyone else, and also afraid he would lose his nerve and break down if so.

As he neared the airport, he felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack. He was really doing this, really just up and leaving his life. He suddenly realized he hadn't given any notice to his job, but decided that he would fax a letter of resignation from whatever hotel he ended up at that night. He expected a call from Doug first thing Monday morning, but there was nothing he could do to talk him into coming back this time.

"Hey, man, you gettin' out?" Chandler snapped out of his thoughts, suddenly aware that they were in front of the airport, unaware of how long he had even been sitting in the car. He reached for his wallet, pulling out two twenties and handing them to the driver before stepping out. He took a deep breath, hands shaking as he walked in the doors, still in disbelief about his actions.

People don't really do this, do they? People talk about it all the time, leaving to find themselves, ponder what could have been had they chosen a different route in life, but does anyone over the age of twenty actually do it? Up and leave their life to answer those questions? At that point, he realized, it didn't matter. He had just thrown away the best relationship of his life, hadn't even bothered to say goodbye to any of his other friends, had his letter of resignation written in his head, and was standing in front of the arrival and departure monitors at the airport. Whether or not people actually did this in real life suddenly seemed like a moot point.

After all, _he_ was doing this.

Stepping up to the first ticket counter, he forced a smile, still trying to steady his hands in his nervousness.

"How can I help you, sir?" the girl behind the counter, who couldn't have been more than eighteen, offered a genuine smile.

"I'd like to buy a ticket," Chandler tried his best to both sound much more confidant in that statement than he felt.

"To…."

"Whatever flight is leaving the soonest and going the furthest," he finally smiled. "Well, the furthest without leaving the country," he added as an afterthought.

"Well," she scrolled through the computer screen, "there is a flight to San Diego that leaves in forty-five minutes that has two first class seats left."

Chandler pulled out his wallet, suddenly thankful that he and Monica hadn't completely merged all of their accounts yet. "Sounds perfect," he nodded, handing her his credit card and ID.

"You'll really have to hurry to make it through security," she warned, taking the cards and typing his information in.

Chandler shrugged as he placed his suitcase on the counter. "I can run."

"Okay, Mr. Bing, you're all checked in. The flight leaves in forty-two minutes from concourse B, gate twelve, which means they begin boarding in twelve minutes," she smiled sweetly. "Have a nice run, and a nice flight."

Chandler laughed out loud. "Thank you, and I will," he winked at her before leaving, heading towards security, inwardly groaning at the long lines. However, he then realized that if he didn't make that flight, he would just pick another. He had nowhere to go and nowhere to be.

And suddenly, through all of the other emotions of the day, past the sadness and ache in his heart at the hurt he'd caused Monica, and surely Joey by now, if not his other friends, through the nervousness and fact that he was scared shit-less that he had no real plan, he suddenly felt a rush of excitement. The same rush of excitement that overcomes you when you walk across the stage at graduation, knowing that anything is possible, and you have nearly endless possibilities in front of you.

At the risk of sounding too cliché, even in his head, he smiled to himself. Today was the first day of the rest of his life, and for the first time in a long time, he felt able to breathe.

~.~

_Um…I feel like just a bit of suspension of belief is necessary for this, ha. I'm just playing with this idea, because I'm at this point in my life where I'm realizing that I have picked my Safety School life path thus far, and am having to decide where to go from here, and…I'm externalizing one of those possibilities through Chandler, because I identify with him, and feel like, due to everything said in the last chapter it could play out as a possibility. I am going somewhere with it, though! Like, there will be an actual plot (and everything in this chapter will be further explained) in the coming chapters. This shouldn't be too long…like, 5 or 6 chapters? Anyway, I'll shut up now. Reviews are always appreciated :)_


	3. Chapter Three

Recovering the Satellites

Chapter Three

~.~

Chandler woke up and rolled over, instinctively reaching his arm out, used to waking up with Monica. When he was greeted with nothing more than an empty hotel bed, he stretched before sitting up, looking around as he realized where he was.

The night before, when he landed in San Diego, he'd tried to decide what to do with himself for the night. Because, truth was, while he had been complaining about how his life was "comfortable" and nothing more than that, once that comfortableness was gone, he was now…uncomfortable. He had hurt the people (and, mostly, the person) who loved him the most for completely selfish reasons, even if they were very valid reasons. And now that his comfortable life was gone, he was extremely uncomfortable and unsure of where to go from there.

Chandler had given a thought to finding a hotel downtown, maybe going out to a few bars, basically just to be around other people. He'd also considered finding a completely secluded hotel and going to the bar at that hotel and getting completely wasted. When all was said and done, though, he had ended up at a hotel fairly close to the airport on Harbor Island and had done nothing more than getting a room and crashing for the night. Although it wasn't that late, he was completely exhausted, and not just from the flight. He was emotionally drained, and sleep was the only thing that sounded good at the moment, and most likely the only way to turn his mind off for a few hours.

When he woke up alone, though, he was once again faced with this sense of being uncomfortable. Grabbing his cell phone from the nightstand, he squinted at the time. 6:07. Was that Eastern Time or Pacific Time, though? He rolled over, looking at the clock on the table. It was Pacific Time. Which meant it was 9 at home, which made a lot more sense for him to be awake.

Home. New York wasn't really his home anymore. As he got out of bed, he sighed, heading over to the bathroom. Chandler looked in the mirror before splashing a stream of cool water onto his face, staring his reflection down in the mirror. He could either mope around, or he could go out and do something. And in that moment, he knew he needed to do that latter or he would either go crazy or end up back at home in a matter of hours. First, though, he grabbed his phone again, needing to make a call. He scrolled down to the name he was looking for, then hit send.

"C'mon, pick up," he mumbled, impatiently waiting for the ringing to stop. Pacing the room, he stopped by the window and peeked out the drapes, realizing that his room had an ocean view. He smiled at that, but then frowned when he got voicemail, hanging up and throwing his phone onto the bed before going over to his suitcase. He pulled out sweatpants and a tshirt, digging for his tennis shoes. He felt like running. He wasn't sure why, but running just sounded like a good idea at that moment. So, after he was dressed, he headed downstairs and out the door, the still cool early- morning air stinging more than he had anticipated, and he suddenly wished he had grabbed a sweatshirt.

And he started running. He couldn't remember the last time he had actually gone for a run, hell, it had probably been in high school, but it felt good. He was running hard, probably too hard, and he felt like he was about to collapse (smoking for years probably didn't help that), but he didn't stop. Where he was going didn't really seem to matter. A few other joggers were out, a couple of people also walking dogs, but he didn't take the time to acknowledge any of them. He wasn't sure where he was running to, or running from, but he needed to keep going.

And he did. He kept running until both his legs and lungs decided it was imperative that he stop, and when he finally did, he collapsed in the grass beside the trail, breathing heavily. He wasn't sure how long he'd been running (and it probably hadn't been as long as it seemed), but somewhere in that time, the sun had begun to rise. Looking up first, and then out across the bay, he inhaled and exhaled deeply, willing his legs to pick him back up. When that finally happened, he headed back in the direction he had come from, though walking this time instead of running. He made a mental note that it seemed, in that moment, gasping for air on rubber band legs, that smoking was as bad for him as everyone always tried to tell him, and a second mental note that he should probably do some sort of exercise more than once every few years.

He walked slowly back, taking in the cool air as he occasionally glanced out over the water, trying to come up with some sort of plan for himself. Any kind of plan. If he was going to be uncomfortable and uncertain, he at least needed a plan.

By the time he got back to the hotel, he did, in fact, have a bit of a plan. Not a complete one, but more than he had flown out there with, more than he had woken up with that morning. He sat down on his bed, again grabbing his cell phone. There were three people he wanted to call at that moment. Who to start with, though? He sighed, re-hitting the send button from earlier.

"C'mon, Joe," he whispered, figuring that Joey was purposely avoiding his call. When he again got voicemail, he hung up with a sigh. He didn't want to talk to his voicemail; he wanted to talk to him. Looking at his phone screen, he did a mental eeny-meeny-miny-mo, trying to decide which of the other two people to call first. He laughed outloud at his answer, dialing the number. She, of course, picked up on the first ring. "Hey, Mom?" he started. "Guess who's on the same side of the country as you right now?"

~.~

Rachel struggled not to spill the carrier of coffee cups she had balanced in one hand, a bag full of sandwiches balanced in the other. Over her lunch hour, she had wanted nothing more than to go to Central Perk, sit down and pretend that everything was normal, and order a triple-shot espresso to keep her awake after the crazy weekend she'd endured.

However, she had settled for Starbucks and a sandwich from the deli down the street, and had ended up taking orders from the majority of people on her floor as well since she wasn't going far.

Things were not going well.

While she really wanted to go to Central Perk, she hadn't even really considered that an option after the day before. After Monica had told Rachel what Chandler had said before he left, Rachel nodded, saying that's what he'd told her the night before, and from the tone of her voice, Monica had gathered that she agreed with him.

Monica flipped out.

Rachel wasn't sure if Monica was taking her anger towards Chandler out on her, or if she really, genuinely felt that betrayed, but angry didn't even begin to describe Monica. There probably weren't enough words in the thesaurus under "angry" to properly describe Monica. When Ross asked Rachel how she could take Chandler's side over Monica's, Rachel had tried to explain she wasn't picking sides, she just understood how Chandler was feeling, that she had been there before.

And then Monica had told Rachel the same thing she'd told Chandler: get out.

And Rachel left. Phoebe wasn't about to be forced to choose sides, so she left without a word to anyone after she finally got Joey to come out of his room. Joey was too hurt and confused to take sides, not understanding why Chandler had talked to both Monica and Rachel before he left, but not to him. So, he went back to his room, which was where he remained for the rest of the day. And with that, Rachel was left alone in the middle of her living room, wondering if her secure group of friends had really just completely fallen apart in a matter of hours.

And the next day, that's how it remained, everyone avoiding each other.

Feeling her cell phone vibrating in her jacket packet, Rachel shifted the bag of food to the hand holding the drinks, stopping where she was walking in the middle of the sidewalk during busy lunch hour when she saw the screen: Chandler Cell. Taking a deep breath, she decided she'd better not ignore it. Flipping the phone open with her chin and her one semi-free hand, she answered the call, trying to keep her voice steady. "Chandler."

~.~

_Uh, this chapter wasn't originally part of this. Before, I had just skipped forward to the next chapter, but I think this one is a little necessary, Maybe. You don't know, because you don't know what the next chapter is yet, so you really can't make that call, but…just thought I'd throw that out there. So, basically, this is just a filler chapter to get a few details out of the way. That will make a lot more sense after you do read the next chapter…_

_Thanks for the reviews so far! Glad to know a bunch of us who are almost done with school right now are in the same boat…wanna all just run away together and avoid the real world? Ha, totally kidding…..okay, like 95% kidding. But seriously, I'm glad that pretty much every review I got said this was "interesting" because a couple of weeks ago I was pretty sure I was out of original fanfic ideas and about to go back into retirement (yea, totally NOT going to happen right now, haha). Anyway, Review, please and thanks :)_


	4. Chapter Four

Recovering the Satellites

Chapter Four

~.~

_5 or 6 chapters? Ha, I'm such a liar…._

~.~_**Flashforward**_~.~

Chandler smiled as he left his office, waving goodbye to his friend Tom, who was on the phone in the cubicle beside him, before heading to the stairs, and then towards his apartment. He grinned as he walked outside, because although he had lived there for nearly three years, the 70-degree-weather in late February still made him smile, and he didn't even mind trading the snow for the rain. Although he had ended up in San Diego purely on a whim, once he spent a week there, he fell in love with the city. Through connections with someone his mom knew, he even got a job as a columnist for a less prominent paper, but after he'd been writing there for about six months, someone from the _Union-Tribune_, who had been following his column, offered him a column once a week to cover for another columnist who was cutting back to spend more time with her family. He was told that if it went well, the job would be his full-time, every day, after a year.

It went well. Although he didn't have as much journalism experience as they usually looked for, he had a knack for it, and the readers loved him. And, along with the city, he fell in love with the job and the people he worked with, something he never, ever in his life thought possible. And, after he was asked to stay on full-time with the paper, he even used half of the money he had saved up as a down payment for a condo in the Gaslight District. And, once again, he fell in love with it all. His neighbors were a couple also in their early thirties, and after discovering how horrible their mailman was at reading the apartment number next to the address and numerous trips trading mail back and forth, he eventually made friends with both of them, and they tried relentlessly to set him up with women. He would sometimes concede, sometimes shake his head fiercely at the suggestions of their friends whom he had gotten to know as well after hanging out with them for the past couple of years.

"Hey, Max," Chandler smiled as he opened the door, his neighbor stepping out as he walked into the building.

"Hey! What're you doing tonight? Laure's having a 'girl's night' tonight at our place, so I'm meeting a few of the guys for drinks. Wanna come?"

"I dunno, I still have this column to finish," Chandler shrugged, heading towards the stairs.

"Then stay away from me! I don't wanna be your latest topic," Max laughed. "Give me a call if you change your mind!" he added, and let the door close behind him as Chandler nodded after him.

Chandler climbed the four flights of stairs, smiling at Laure, who was letting a few of her girlfriends Max had mentioned in, before unlocking his own door. He sighed as he dropped his bag, hitting the flashing light on his answering machine. Only one person ever called him at home…Well, two people if you included his mom.

_Chandler Bing, this is quite the game of phone tag_, Rachel's voice cut into the silence of the room, causing Chandler to smile. _I think-I __**think**__ we're going on five days now, which is getting pretty ridiculous. Anyway, since I'm apparently never actually going to get a hold of you, by cell phone, home phone, or work phone, I have a conference I'm going to in L.A. on Friday morning, so I'm flying in Thursday night, and I thought, hey, while I'm out there, guess who I haven't seen in almost three years? Anyway, give me a call back, or else, well, I'll just show up there Friday night either way. Oh, and your column this morning? Cracked me up. Like, coffee out my nose cracked me up. Anyway, give me a call back, and I look forward to probably talking to your voicemail again tomorrow after receiving your voicemail, and to hopefully seeing you this weekend. Bye!_

Chandler laughed, leaning against the counter, his smile slowly fading to a frown. God, he hadn't been back home in three years. He'd seen Joey, once, on a trip he made to shoot a pilot of an ill-fated TV show, but it had been awkward and uncomfortable, and Chandler had wished he had gone home to see Joey earlier. Joey hadn't spoken to Chandler for months after he left, and Rachel said to just give him some space, but it turned out that giving him space made him think Chandler cared about him even less. Eventually, they did speak occasionally, but it was forced. It wasn't the same. If Chandler had to name his biggest regret about leaving New York, it had been how he'd left his relationship with Joey. He'd spoken to Phoebe a couple of times when she had, for some reason or another, answered Rachel's phone, but he got the underlying sense that she hadn't quite forgiven him for hurting Joey like that. Or Monica. Mostly Joey it seemed, though.

Rachel, however, he talked to multiple times a week. She had understood his need to leave, and in the rough few months when he was making the transition and figuring out his new life, she had become his confidant, even if she was on the other side of the country. Monica, through hurt or anger or whatever, had never quite forgiven Rachel, and Ross stood by that decision. Though after some time they did start speaking again, it wasn't the same. They were nowhere near best friends. Probably more like acquaintances than friends at all, actually. Ross was even worse than Monica, and since Rachel was still talking to Chandler, he refused to even speak to her. He didn't understand how Rachel could still talk to him after everything he put Monica through.

Rachel probably couldn't name more than maybe two times in the past few years that the five of them had all gotten together. After Chandler left, it was just never the same. Feelings were hurt and grudges were held, and the Geller stubbornness seemed to be in the middle of the action.

Sighing, Chandler walked over to his nearly-empty refrigerator and stared into it for a few moments before closing the door again. It was very clear that he was a guy living alone. He flipped his cell phone open, then shut. He needed to call Rachel back. Although he was happier in all aspects of his life than he could remember ever being before, he couldn't help but worry that seeing Rachel again would bring up some form of regret of everything he left behind, as well as guilt for everything Rachel went through after she "sided" with him. God, he missed her, though. He talked to her all the time, but he missed actually seeing her, which seemed ironic in hindsight, because, although they had their moments, she hadn't been anywhere near his closest friend in New York. Chandler again flipped open his cell phone, deciding that, since he had nothing to eat and too much on his mind that he didn't want to write about, he'd might as well go out with the guys for awhile.

"Max? Hey, where'd you end up going?" he asked, struggling to hear him over the background noise. "Yea, I decided to procrastinate a bit and come grab a beer and some food," he paused, listening to Max's reply. "'K, see you in a bit, man."

Chandler hung up the phone, heading back to the door before scrolling down to Rachel's name. He laughed when he got her voicemail; this phone tag game was never ending.

"Rachel Karen Green, I get the feeling you're avoiding me," he began, again awkwardly waving to the girls entering the apartment across the hall as he left since he had been set up with all three of them at some point in time by Laure. "Anyway, where are you flying into Thursday? If you're flying in here I can pick you up, maybe go grab dinner or something? If not, I'll see you Friday for sure. Oh, do you wanna stay here for the weekend? I only have one bedroom, but I do have a couch, which, as a gentleman, I wouldn't let you sleep on anyway. But, anyway, I look forward to your voicemail later tonight or, most likely, while I'm in the middle of a meeting tomorrow. See ya this weekend, Rach," he laughed, hanging up the phone as he headed back out the door of the building, heading in the direction of the bar where he was meeting Max.

~.~

_I know I just skipped over three years, but it will ALL be explained, so don't freak out on me, haha. And now, in hindsight, I'm not so sure that I like that I moved forward in time and plan on telling the rest of Chandler's story through flashbacks, but it's what I'd originally set this up to do, and I don't have the time to completely reorganize this right now. And…I don't want this to be a 30 chapter fic, ha. So, when I said I hadn't originally had the last chapter in here, I meant I hadn't had it where I placed it, but had planned it as a flashback, but I decided that I needed it to set Chandler's mood immediately after leaving, so ended up putting it before this chapter._

_Phew. That was quite the run-on sentence. Anyway, continue reviewing, my four loyal reviewers :) (and anyone else who would like to make my day :) )_


	5. Chapter Five

Recovering the Satellites

Chapter Five

~.~

_Forgive me for the short chapters in this fic, but there is a method to my madness, I promise._

_And, as KMJ pointed out, it is totally and completely unrealistic that Chandler would get a daily column. I know this. I knew this, tried hard to decide a different career path, said screw it, and crossed my fingers that no one would say anything, haha. Anyway, suspend disbelief about that…I just wanted Chandler to do something that made him happy, and, again, there is a method to my madness, and you shall just have to wait and see…I have this planned out through the end in great detail and just need time to actually sit down and write, erm, type it out._

_And, Kristy, thank you so much for saying that this is underappreciated :). There was a point in time when the amount of reviews per hit on this story would have devastated me, especially since I love it so darn much, but I understand it's unconventional and completely un-Mondler…and I'm still getting more reviews than most in this fandom, so…I'll take what I can get. I very much appreciate the feedback that I _am_ getting for this._

~.~

~.~_**Flashback**_~.~

Chandler sighed with defeat, looking at his mother's front door. There's nothing wrong with running home to your mom, even if you're 30, right? He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, contemplating not knocking and just standing there, alone, for a few moments. Running "home" (he had never lived here, so it felt weird wording it like that) to "mom" (she'd never been the strongest mother-figure) seemed like a bit of a failure in his eyes, and if he didn't knock, he wouldn't have to admit defeat quite yet. However, even if he didn't knock, his mom was still expecting him and would probably eventually find him there on her front porch. Sighing again, he raised a heavy hand up to knock.

"Hi, dear," Nora opened the door, greeting him with a smile and a hug only seconds after he knocked.

"Hi, Mom," Chandler replied, returning the hug.

"How was the drive up here? Not too much traffic?" Nora continued, ushering him inside.

Chandler shook his head, looking around his mother's current house, where he had actually never been before, as he followed her past the living room and into the kitchen. He sighed as he sat down at the table, still feeling defeated that he had ran to his mom. He'd never even been that dependent on his parents, so why now?

"What's wrong, honey?" Nora asked, opening the refrigerator. She pulled out a bottle of Yoo-hoo, handing it to Chandler. "You didn't sound so down when I talked to you yesterday?"

"Thanks," Chandler took the bottle. "I just feel a little…too old to come running to my mom," he finally laughed.

"Well, that's why they're calling it…oh, what is it, the boomerang generation?" Nora asked, taking out a bottle of water for herself as she sat across the table from him. "Anyway, I kind of always expected it from you. I mean, I've always been pretty sure your father and I screwed you up so much you'd never get married…."

"I almost got married," Chandler scoffed.

"Almost only counts in horse shoes and hand grenades, honey," Nora patted his hand from across the table. "I'm not saying that you failed, anyway. It's nice to see you actually pursuing….something in your life."

"Thanks, Mom," Chandler laughed sarcastically.

"No, seriously. I meant what I said when I talked to you last week. If you just settle and settle and settle, one day you'll wake up, and," she sighed, shaking her head, "your husband, whom you've been fighting with for years, will be sleeping with the pool boy."

"Hopefully not exactly how my version of settling would turn out," Chandler mumbled, and Nora laughed.

"You'll be fine," she stood up, affectionately patting his arm. "You've always been resilient." Chandler just raised his eyebrows before taking a drink. "Oh, you mentioned wanting to write again when I talked to you yesterday?" Nora continued, and Chandler nodded.

"Or something like that. Who knows," he shrugged.

"Well, you should give my friend Cindy Chase a call," she dug through her purse on the counter, pulling out a card. "She's the editor at this new, little paper, oh, one of those weekly-reader, local things," she waved her hands as she spoke, handing him the card. "She's looking for a columnist. Someone funny but smart."

Chandler nodded, looking at the card in his hands. "Thanks, Mom."

"What are mom's for," she rested her hand on the back of his chair. "Or at least that's what my mom always used to say," she trailed off.

Chandler laughed as he stood up, unable to believe that for once in his life, he may have made the right decision. He didn't want to get his hopes up about the prospect of a job, but it was hard not to. "Thanks, Mom," he added again, kissing her on the cheek as he walked past.

"Guest room in the second door on the left upstairs," Nora called after him, and Chandler nodded, heading in that direction.

Maybe he didn't need a plan. Maybe all of this was just going to fall into place for him. Maybe leaving New York had been all he needed to do to start making things happen.

When he got up to the empty bedroom, he sat down on the bed with a sigh, letting himself fall backwards. He closed his eyes, a reality he hadn't even thought of yet sinking in. He'd been so excited about finding himself and chasing his dreams and doing all kinds of other cliché things along those same lines, that it hadn't even crossed his mind that this reality and the reality he left back in New York were one and the same. He couldn't just erase his old life and start a new one; his old life was still there. It was all His Life. There weren't two separate ones. There wasn't a magical ending and a brand new beginning. And the fact that he had relentlessly settled for years and hadn't completely been happy didn't take away from the fact that he did have happy memories. In fact, he had a lot happy memories. So, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the tears that were beginning to well up.

He cursed himself for thinking it, for letting the thought even cross his mind: Goddamn it, he missed Monica.


	6. Chapter Six

Recovering the Satellites

Chapter Six

~.~

_Uh, this could get confusing. I'm gonna specify if things take place in 2004, or are flashbacks. That should work, I think…_

_Also, the holiday season tis upon us, and I work in retail and have finals coming up, so sorry if updates are a little less frequent :) I'll try my best to keep them coming, though._

_And, of course, thanks for the reviews! _

~.~_**2004**_~.~

Chandler fidgeted nervously, wondering why he was so nervous to see Rachel. Maybe nervous wasn't the right word. More like…excited. He was excited. Oh, who was he kidding; he was nervous, as well. And why did he have to be such a fidgeter? He fidgeted whenever there was a moment not filled with…something, so being nervous brought that quality out even more. He pushed the sleeves of his black sweater up to his elbows, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, rattling the change in his right pocket. He bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment, before pulling his sleeves back down, checking the time on his watch. He picked at his thumbnail, which, for some reason or another, seemed longer than the rest of his fingernails. Sighing, he again looked down. He stared at his shoes for a moment, noticing a large scuff on the left one, before looking back up, craning his neck to try to see further. He really missed being able to wait for people at the gate their flight flew into instead of waiting behind security. Sighing, Chandler again glanced at his watch. What was taking her so long? Her flight landed twenty minutes ago, according to the arrival time he had just checked. What, was she sitting in the last row of the plane? Did she walk the wrong way from the terminal? Did she never get his message about meeting her there? Where-

And there she was. Chandler grinned when he saw her, and Rachel returned his smile, quickening her pace as she hurried toward him, moving away from the crowd. Dropping her carry-on bag and purse at her feet, she stopped, throwing her arms around his neck in a giant hug. Chandler returned it, squeezing her tightly.

Chandler pulled back slightly, squinting at her for a moment. "Did you get a haircut?" he finally asked, trying to keep a straight face, and Rachel just laughed and shook her head, hugging him again.

"Well, only like thirty in the past three years," she laughed, squeezing him tighter. "Oh, my god, I missed you," she said as she pulled back slightly. "That's ridiculous because I talk to you almost every day, but, god I miss you," she again threw her arms around him. Chandler laughed, nodding in agreement.

"I miss you, too."

"Oh, look at you all handsome," Rachel pulled back again as she picked her bags up, looking him up and down. "You look good. You look happy," she added, grinning. "I like your new glasses, very writer-ish," she nodded, referring to his black-rimmed square frames.

"Thanks, I think," Chandler laughed. "Want some help?" he asked, motioning to her bag.

Rachel shook her head. "Oh, no. this is just my carry-on. I checked a suitcase, too."

Chandler laughed, "How long are you planning to stay, exactly?"

"Three days," Rachel replied as they started walking towards baggage claim. "C'mon, do you really think I can fit three day's worth of clothes in here?" she motioned to the bag she had slung over her shoulder.

"Well, I could," he shrugged.

"You are a man."

"I would have to agree with that…."

"If you went on a three day trip, how many pairs of shoes would you take?"

"One."

"One? Not even two?"

"Well," Chandler started, "I would take one and wear one. Why, how many pairs of shoes did you bring?" he asked, slightly amused.

"Six…."

"Six?" Chandler laughed. "What did you have planned for this weekend? Running a few marathons? Trudging through mud on your way to work? Being mugged by someone with a shoe fetish?"

"No," she smacked his arm playfully. "But, I brought two for work tomorrow, because I couldn't decide which suit to bring, so I brought two, and different shoes for each," she started. "And then," she began to continue the explanation, but stopped suddenly. "We haven't seen each other in three years, and we're really talking about shoes?"

Chandler laughed, nodding his head. "It would appear that way."

"Well, I know that I talk to you all the time, so I probably already know everything, but tell me everything! And show me everything! Because it's completely different actually being here," she paused, attempting to stifle a yawn. "Man, you would think that gaining three hours after a six-hour flight would be a good thing, but," she shook her head, before stepping forward when she saw her suitcase.

"See, that's why I haven't gone back home in three years. I just can't stand the thought of losing those three hours," Chandler shrugged, taking the suitcase from her.

"Right, that's the reason," Rachel looked at him, but he gave no response. "Anyway, your couch is pretty comfortable, right? 'Cause I'm about ten minutes away from just completely passing out."

"It's okay," he shrugged. "However, I will be finding that out. You can sleep in my bed."

"Chandler, I could curl up and sleep on your kitchen counter right now for all that I care. Really, I can sleep on the couch," Rachel continued as they walked out the doors. "Ooh, it's still nice out!" Rachel exclaimed as they walked outside. "It's still all snowy and icky back home! I'm sure it's freezing right now. No wonder you never came back," Rachel smiled to show she was only kidding.

"Well, that, and to avoid having to listen to you ramble on about shoes," he grinned.

"Whatever," Rachel rolled her eyes before stopping walking again, shaking her head at him.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just miss you," she smiled, wrapping her free arm around him as he stopped walking as well. "I just…miss you. I miss how things were, sometimes. Ya know?"

"Yea, I do," he agreed, kissing her forehead. "I miss how things were sometimes, too. I was kind of nervous to see you again because of that…."

"In all honesty…me, too," Rachel nodded in agreement. "That's the reason you haven't been back to New York, isn't it?"

Chandler nodded slowly. "Yea. I mean, I'm happy, but," he paused, continuing to nod his head. "Sometimes I miss how things were, and I'm afraid of how overwhelming that feeling would be if I actually went back to New York, even just to visit."

Rachel smirked. "Try living there." Chandler looked down, feeling guilty. "No, don't feel bad," Rachel grabbed his hand. "Not my intention. I'm sorry," she said softly as they started walking in the direction of a cab.

"No, I'm sorry," Chandler sighed, and a moment of awkward silence ensued after they got into the car. "So," Chandler cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "What are your other four pairs of shoes for?" he finally asked, and Rachel just laughed, before explaining her reasoning behind the other four pairs of shoes she brought with her.

~.~

Chandler groaned as a light turning on woke him up. He rolled over on the couch, glancing at the clock on the wall, which looked like it read a little before six.

"God, how long have you been up?" he mumbled, smelling the coffee she was now pouring into a mug.

"Little over an hour," Rachel replied, looking in first his refrigerator, and then his cupboard for something to eat for breakfast.

"You are crazy, woman," he groaned. "Go back to bed."

"I thought you got up every morning and ran before work," Rachel laughed, amused with how grumpy Chandler was in the morning. He proved to be competition in that department, even for her. Not an easy feat.

"Yea, I get up at, like, seven, not five," he rubbed his eyes, getting off the couch and walking over to the kitchen as he gave up on sleeping any longer, clad only in a pair of shorts.

"You may be less of a morning person than me," Rachel laughed, opening another cupboard in search of food. "And it's almost nine in New York, so I'm not completely crazy for being up and ready already. Besides, I have to drive up to LA, and it completely slipped my mind that I was going to rent a car last night because I was so tired, so I was going to go back to the airport and do that," she closed the cupboard door. "By the way, you have no food here…."

"Sorry," Chandler yawned, walking over to the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of water before leaning up against the counter. "I think there's some pop-tarts in that one," he pointed to the next cupboard over.

"Thanks," Rachel grabbed the box, looking him up and down when she turned around, before looking for the toaster.

"Under there," Chandler pointed to the cupboard the toaster was in. "You just completely checked me out, by the way."

"Did not," Rachel scoffed. "I was just looking for the toaster."

"Yea, you tell yourself that, Rach," Chandler winked at her before leaving the kitchen. "Guess I might as well go run now since _somebody_ woke me up so early…"

~.~

Rachel sighed as she got to Chandler's front door. She looked down at her watch, which read half past five. While she remembered to ask for the code to get into the building, a key to actually get into his apartment had somehow slipped both of their minds. She knocked on the chance that he might be home already, digging through her purse for her cell phone. Sighing, she leaned up against the door, calling his cell phone. He didn't answer. She then tried his work number, which he still didn't answer.

"Really, Chandler?" she mumbled, trying to decide what to do as she knocked again. He mentioned living close to work, so she thought about walking to his office to find him and grab a key, which might actually be her best option. Or she could just sit there…Or go shopping for a bit. That option might tie the first.

"Can I help you with something?" Rachel turned around at the curious voice from behind her. She looked at the woman it had come from, unlocking the door across the hall.

"You must be Laure!" Rachel exclaimed, hanging up her cell phone, giving up on Chandler answering.

"Oh my god, and you're Rachel!" Laure said, realization sinking in as she remembered that Chandler had mentioned her coming for the weekend. "It's so good to finally meet you! Chandler talks about you all the time."

"It's nice to meet you, too," Rachel smiled, shaking her hand.

"Locked out?"

"Yea, I think we had a bit of a miscommunication about me getting in. Or maybe a lack of communication," Rachel laughed. "And he's not answering either of his phones, so I'm sure he's hiding somewhere writing."

"Probably," Laure laughed. "Hey, you wanna come in and wait? You're welcome to," Laure motioned to her own apartment.

"Actually, I was just about to go track him down at work, but if I can't find him, I might have to take you up on that."

"You're really welcome to, if you want," Laure repeated. "Oh, you guys should come over tomorrow night, if you don't already have plans. We're having a little, informal dinner party with some friends."

"I'll talk to Chandler, but that sounds fun," Rachel replied sincerely, wanting to meet Chandler's West Coast friends. "Anyway, if you don't see me in about ten minutes, take it as a good sign," Rachel laughed, heading for the stairs. "See you tomorrow night! It was nice meeting you."

"You, too!" Laure added, finally heading into her own apartment as Rachel left.

Less than ten minutes later, Rachel was pleasantly surprised to find herself at Chandler's office building. It was very empty and quiet inside, but she figured it was, after all, Friday evening, and most people had already headed home for the night. As she headed toward the elevator, she crossed her fingers that she remembered what floor he worked on correctly. Stepping off the elevator, she paid close attention to the names on the offices and cubicles. When she saw two names she recognized from Chandler talking about them, she smiled, very pleased with herself. Finally, she spotted not his desk, but him, sitting in an empty conference room alone behind his laptop, chewing on the end of his glasses as he frowned at the screen. She watched him for a moment, apparently deep in though, before stepping toward the door, clearing her throat.

Startled, Chandler looked up, smiling when he saw her. "Hey."

"Hey. So, I made it into your building, but found it just a tad bit hard to get into your apartment without a key…"

"Oh my god, I can't believe I forgot to give you a key. I'm sorry, Rach," Chandler laughed, moving to stand up.

"No, stay and finish! I can just get your key and meet you at your place."

"I'm done," Chandler shook his head, closing the computer. "Well, I'm stuck, but I'll finish later."

"You sure?" Rachel asked, following him out of the room and back to his desk. Chandler just nodded, shoving his computer into his briefcase when he got back to his cubicle. He frowned at the blinking light on his phone, not really wanting to listen to the messages. "Go ahead, I'm in no hurry," Rachel smiled at him, so he sat down, picking up the phone.

Rachel looked at the wall behind his computer, which was lined with pictures. In the far upper corner, she was very surprised to see a picture of the six of them back in New York. It was a very old picture, and she couldn't be positive, but would almost bet it was at Carol and Susan's wedding. Below it was a much more recent picture of Ben with Carol and Susan on what looked to be a Christmas card, and Rachel almost laughed that he still talked to Carol but not Ross. Beside those, there was a picture of him with Laure and who she assumed to be Max, all toasting to something, followed by a picture of him with a group of men, all laughing on stage somewhere. On the other far corner, away from the other pictures, was a newspaper clipping of a review of his mom's current book, as well as a postcard from Connecticut. She studied that for a moment, before realizing that Chandler was watching her.

"Hi?" she smiled, causing Chandler to laugh. "You still talk to Carol?" she asked, motioning to the picture of Ben.

"Yea," Chandler nodded, standing up and grabbing his jacket. "Ben is kind of my god son. And she isn't quite as irrational as her ex-husband."

"Right," Rachel nodded, following Chandler again as they headed back to the elevator. "So, what are we doing tonight?"

"Well, I usually go out with the guys from work on Friday nights. They have a karaoke night at this piano bar down the street…It usually turns into a competition to see who we can get the drunkest and get to sing at the end of the night," he laughed. "We _clearly_ act out age."

"Clearly," Rachel laughed. "So, I get to meet your work friends?" Rachel asked Chandler as they stepped out onto the street, and Chandler nodded.

"Yea, who knew 'work friends' wasn't an oxymoron," he grinned, gently grabbing her arm to steer her in the right direction.

"Oh, I met Laure when I was trying to get into your apartment earlier," Rachel added. "She said they're having a dinner party tomorrow and we're invited."

"Yea, that's usually what I do Saturday nights," Chandler laughed.

"Well, aren't you just Mister Popular, going out with a different group of people every night of the weekend," Rachel nudged him jokingly, stopping walking when he stopped suddenly, dropping her arm. "What?" she looked back at Chandler, who was staring across the street, his attention focused on the two auburn-haired women who were crossing the street towards them. She turned her attention back to Chandler, who had locked eyes with the more petite of the two girls, and was returning her smile as she came nearer.

It was then that Rachel realized who the girl was, and her suspicion was confirmed once the girls were in front of them, the green-eyed girl opening her mouth to speak, but then closing it again, as Chandler whispered, "Mary."

~.~

_I kind of love the fact that no one has any idea where I'm going with this fic…major power rush right there. ;) I am going somewhere, though. And I'm hoping it eventually all ties together as nicely for everyone else as it does for me in my head._

_Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving to any American's out there, and…have a happy Thursday to everyone else. :)_


	7. Chapter Seven

Recovering the Satellites

Chapter Seven

~.~

_Longest chapter I've ever written in my life—brace yourself! ;)_

~.~_**December 2001**_~.~

Chandler ran down the third block of his run, glancing around while attempting to look like he wasn't actually glancing around. This was where he usually saw her, coming from the opposite direction, would slow down for a moment until she caught up, and then they would both turn down the same street and finish the majority of their run together. He didn't know anything about her, didn't even know her name, but they had been running together for the past month. He didn't want to introduce himself, didn't want to find out her story, because, in all honesty, he didn't want to be in a relationship right now. Nine months ago, he'd been engaged, completely uprooted his life, and moved to California. Even though it had been of his own doing, it still took him a few months to get over Monica. He had dialed the first nine digits of her phone number numerous times, but always hung up the phone, not wanting to make it any harder for her by talking to her. He had hurt her, he had left, and he was, overall, happy. He didn't need to call Monica and make it any harder for her. Or, if he was being honest, harder for himself.

And then, as he had started to get over Monica, and it was a few days in-between times he thought about her, along came the girl with the green eyes. The first day his path had crossed hers running, he couldn't help but smile at her. A real, genuine smile, not a slight smile or head nod or a wave he would give to other runners he crossed paths with, but a real smile. She was just so…captivating, he couldn't help it. She was pretty, not spectacularly so, but there was something about her…with her bright green eyes and auburn hair, or maybe it was how gracefully she moved. Whatever the reason, he was absolutely captivated by her from the first moment he saw her. He then proceeded to, in completely Chandler-esque fashion, trip over his own feet and fall flat on his face. She stopped, obviously stifling laughter as she offered her hand, asking if he was okay. He flushed, said he was great, they both smiled at each other for a moment longer, and she finally ended the non-conversation with a, "Well, I'll see you later."

And he did. The next day, the same time, same spot, he saw her again. And from that day on, they would both smile at each other, turn down the same street, and run together without a word for a couple of miles, before going in their own directions again.

It had been a good four weeks of that now. And today, he was going to tell her his name. He didn't want to date her, but a name would be nice. Just because he looked forward to their meeting every morning and left precisely at the same time every day just to make sure they would meet at the same point, didn't mean anything. He just wanted to know her name. They ran together everyday; not knowing her name seemed almost rude.

When Chandler saw her coming from a slight distance, he slowed completely to a stop, pulling the headphones out of his ears. The green-eyed girl looked at him curiously, coming to a stop directly in front of him and doing the same.

Chandler smiled for a moment, licking his lips as he extended his hand. "I'm Chandler."

Returning his smile, she reached out for his hand. "Mary."

"Nice to finally meet you, Mary," Chandler grinned, putting his headphones back into his ears. Mary followed suit, and they continued down the same path as usual, stealing glances at each other every once in a while, until they got to the point in their run where they split up again. "See you tomorrow, Mary," Chandler smiled at her as she turned to leave, waving at him as he watched her go.

The next day, Mary was stopped at the corner of their meeting spot, this time waiting for Chandler. Chandler slowed to a stop as he approached her, removing his headphones again. Mary shook her head, "We can talk and run. I was just waiting for you." Chandler nodded, and they both resumed running. "So, I was thinking last night, and I have a theory," Mary began, and Chandler looked at her, not sure where she could be going with her theory. "See, I feel like I like you, a lot, but I don't even know you," she continued. "Well, there was this psychology experiment, where men were set up to cross either a scary suspension bridge, or else just a regular bridge, and there was an attractive female interviewer at the other side who handed them a questionnaire, and gave them her phone number to call if they had any questions. Well," she continued, "more of the men from the suspension bridge condition called, because they misattributed their heightened sense of arousal to being attracted to the woman, not to having just crossed a scary bridge. Misattribution of arousal," she finished. "We run together every day. Misattribution of arousal."

"Wow, that is probably the most complex way I've ever been preemptively blown off before," Chandler laughed.

"Sorry, I'm not trying to blow you off," Mary smiled. "I just, I like you, I look forward to seeing you every day, and I don't even know you. I just...I'm not looking for anything right now…."

"If it makes you feel any better, neither am I."

"A little better," Mary smiled.

"For the record, though," Chandler continued, "I do like you, too." Mary attempted to speak, but Chandler cut her off. "However, if it makes you feel better, we can definitely go with your theory. Because I'm really not looking for anything right now, either."

"As long as we're on the same page," Mary smiled.

"Probably more like the same paragraph," Chandler returned her smile.

"This is me," Mary pointed as they approached the point where they parted. "See you tomorrow?"

Chandler grinned, nodding as he continued running. "See you tomorrow, Mary."

~.~

Chandler sighed, looking down at his watch as he waited in line for coffee. The barista that morning must have been particularly slow-moving, because the line was barely crawling forward. He again sighed in frustration, staring the barista down from his spot five people back in line, silently begging the girl to please move faster.

"You clean up well."

Chandler jumped at the voice, the only noise before having been from behind the counter as well as the soft music, most people in too much of a hurry and not awake enough before their morning coffee to make any kind of conversation. Turning towards the sound of the voice, Chandler smiled.

"Are you following me?" he laughed, looking Mary up and down as he thought the same of her, that she cleaned up well.

"I already got my coffee," she motioned to the cup in her hand. "I was here first. Are you following me, Chandler?" she teased back.

"I might just be," Chandler nodded. "Oh, hey," he stepped closer to her, though trying not to lose his place in line. "Do you feel that?" he motioned between them.

Mary smiled at him curiously. "Feel what?"

"We aren't running," he motioned around them, "but, I still like you," he finished with a shrug. "Proper attribution of arousal?"

Mary laughed out loud, hard, and at that moment, Chandler knew he was heading down the road he didn't want to be heading towards at that moment. There was just something about this girl….

"I would love to stand here and debate this with you," she continued to grin before taking a sip of her coffee. "However, I am late for class," she motioned towards the door, and Chandler's face fell. "That I teach," she quickly added off of Chandler's look. "The class that I teach. At City College."

Chandler breathed out a sigh of relief at that. "So, Mary the college professor, if I were to go to the sandwich shop around the corner for lunch, around, say, noon, would I see you there?"

Mary looked down, biting her lip. Chandler braced himself for the worst, cursing himself for acting on this crush, because it was a fun crush to have, and if she shot him down, it would make running with her still rather awkward. "Well, I have two classes this morning, and then work at my other job this afternoon. But," she continued, "I am planning on being here grading papers tonight, from, say, eight 'til midnight…"

"I will see you later, then," Chandler smiled.

"Bye, Chandler," Mary added, turning to leave, and although she kind of hated herself for saying yes to him, she couldn't help but smile as she walked away.

~.~

Chandler glanced around the coffee shop as he entered. He usually only went there in the morning, so it was weird seeing it much emptier and feeling so much more low-key than in the hurried morning rush. Seeing Mary sitting at the corner table, indeed grading papers, he couldn't help but smile. As he neared the table, Mary looked up, returning his smile.

"Just so we're clear," Chandler sat down, "this isn't a date, right?"

"Definitely not," Mary shook her head. "Because we're not doing that, right?"

"Right. Same paragraph," Chandler grinned. "So, Mary the college professor, what class are you grading papers for? And shouldn't you be on winter break or something?"

"Break starts next week," she shook her head. "That's why I need to get these papers graded. They're for a research methods class," she straightened her stack of papers out, slipping them into a folder. I also teach into to psych," she continued.

"Which explains the misattribution or whatever theory," Chandler nodded.

"Right," Mary smiled. "I'm not a professor, though. I teach at a community college. I only have my Master's right now."

"Right now?"

"I'm taking a couple of years off, but I'm going back to finish my PhD," Mary nodded. "I'm going to start applying places again next fall."

"Why didn't you just keep going, I mean, if you don't mind me asking. People always say they're going back to school someday…."

"Oh, but I am," Mary smiled, used to that question. "I plan on applying to a few schools on the East Coast. For some reason, I always wanted to go to Yale, I guess because my grandparents live out there, so I went to the campus all the time as a kid and just always said that, someday, I would go there. After high school, though, I ended up just staying here for college, for a guy," she rolled her eyes. "I got into every college I applied to, but just…."

"Took the safety school track in life?"

"Yes!" Mary's eyes lit up at his understanding.

Chandler laughed at her reaction, raising his hand. "King of the Safety School Life Track."

"So, what was your safety school?"

"NYU. I didn't even apply anywhere else," Chandler shrugged. "I mean, I could have probably gotten in wherever. My parents sent me to a couple of pretty prestigious prep schools, and they would have paid for me to go wherever, but, man, only applying at NYU sure did get a reaction out of my mom," he laughed. "And then, after college, I stayed on that same path in life. I took the first job I was offered, it turned from a temp job into a permanent career, and the next thing I knew, it was ten years later, and there I was, farther away from any sort of goal than I had been when I started school, and completely lost to who I even was."

"So, how did Mr. Safety School get from the East Coast to the West Coast, then?"

"I realized what I was doing. I realized that I had been settling relentlessly for years, and if I were to-" Chandler stopped suddenly, realizing what he was saying to her, having planned to finish that sentence, 'if I were to marry Monica.' Not exactly first date kind of material.

"If you were to," Mary looked at him curiously, her stack of papers now on the edge of the table away from them.

"I realized that if I were to continue settling, and stay in the same place, at the same job, stuck in the same routine-"

"And with the same girl?" Mary cut him off, saying what he was dancing around.

"And _marry_ the same girl," Chandler nodded at her, "that one day I would wake up incredibly cynical and bitter and mad at the world."

"So, you…"

"You have a way of getting people to talk," Chandler laughed.

"Right, did I not mention that what I plan on going for my PhD in is clinical psychology?" Mary laughed.

"No, but makes sense," Chandler laughed as well. "So, I told her all of that, and about an hour and a half after having a ring thrown at my forehead so hard it left a mark, I was on a plane to San Diego, for no reason other than it was the first flight out. And here I am," he held up his hands.

"How long have you been here?"

"Um, almost nine months," Chandler replied. "And, now that you know my life story, why did you decide to take time off from school if you're so adamant about finishing?"

Mary sighed, looking down. "Well," she began slowly, "My mom passed away last spring."

"Oh my god, I'm sorry," Chandler placed one hand on hers. "Now I feel like an ass for pressing you about it…."

"You're fine," Mary shook her head. "Anyway, I withdrew my application from Yale, as well as the other schools I applied to on the East Coast, because I didn't even want to know if I was getting in, because I knew I couldn't leave right now. But my interview at Yale went so well, and I was even talking to this professor regularly," Mary trailed off, shaking her head. "But my mom just got sick so suddenly, and then a few weeks later…she was gone. And I just-I just couldn't leave. I couldn't leave my dad and my sister. The first 25 years of my life I had done nothing but dream of leaving here and figuring out who I was without all of these same people around, while doing nothing about it, and when the chance finally came, I couldn't….leave."

"I'm sorry," Chandler repeated in a whisper.

"Not your fault, but thank you," Mary repeated back quietly. "Anyway," she cleared her throat, "it's really not that bad. I really don't mind the teaching job I found, and it's kind of made me realize I want to go into more of the research and teaching side of psychology than the practicing side," Mary shrugged. "It's all about finding the silver lining." Chandler smiled, marveling at her ability to be that sincere in her statement. "Anyway, what is it that you do, Chandler…" she trailed off, not knowing his last name.

"Bing," he finished for her. "And I write a newspaper column. What was the other job you mentioned, Mary…" he trailed off with a grin, playing her own game.

"Johnson. Mary Johnson," she smiled. "'Ordinary name for an extraordinary girl,' is what my mom always used to say," she added. "I work at a group home for teenagers who are kind of on their last strike before going to jail. We work with them on good behaviors versus bad behaviors, and they have a whole point system for privileges based on that. If they do anything wrong, we talk to them one-on-one about correcting what they did," Mary trailed off. "Or if they do anything in an attempt to harm themselves or someone else, we have to take them down. I may look small, but I can have a sixteen-year-old on the floor like that," Mary snapped her fingers as she grinned, and Chandler laughed. "That doesn't happen very often," she added, still smiling. "They're overall good people. Just need some love and guidance. Sadly, mostly the former."

"You're like a real life good person," Chandler marveled at her.

"In comparison to you? Are you a horrible person?" Mary laughed, and Chandler shook his head. "Thank you, though. I try," she smiled shyly. "Um, I actually kind of need to grade some of these," she said softly, motioning to the stack of papers in front of her.

"Mind some company?" Chandler asked, just as softly. "I kind of have some work to do, too," he pulled his laptop out of his briefcase, setting it on the table.

"Well, that would be one way to make this definitely not a date."

"Definitely," Chandler laughed in agreement. "I'm gonna grab something to drink," he motioned towards the counter. "Want anything?"

Mary shook her head, motioning to her own cup. "I'm good right now, thanks."

"Be right back," he smiled, turning towards the counter, and Mary watched after him with a smile.

The night continued with Mary grading her papers, every once in awhile sharing a funny typo or horribly incorrect sentence with Chandler, who she in turn finally got to share one of his past columns with her, although he refused to show her what he was currently working on since it wasn't done yet. They mostly worked, every once in awhile glancing or smiling at each other, comfortable in the silence.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt, but we're closed now." Chandler and Mary both looked up suddenly as one of the employees came over to their table, smiling, but obviously not too enthused about their presence. They both apologized, leaving a pretty sizeable tip for being there so long, before heading out the door.

"I had fun tonight," Chandler smiled at Mary as they started walking.

"Yea, definitely ranks pretty high up there as far as non-dates go," Mary added with a smirk. "This is actually me," Mary motioned to a building only a block or so down, and Chandler was surprised to find she lived so close to him as well. "I'll see you in the morning?"

Chandler grinned, watching her walk up the stairs. He wanted to kiss her; god, he wanted to kiss her. But it wasn't a date. He had sworn they were on the same page. She planned on moving across the country in another year or so. She didn't want to date. He wasn't ready to date. It wasn't a date.

He would, however, see her in the morning.

"See you in the morning, Mary."

~.~

Chandler grumbled around his apartment the next morning as he got ready to go run. It was raining. Not only raining, but pouring. He knew, for a fact, that Mary would still be running, despite the rain. He'd got caught in the rain, on accident, a time or two, and though he had been pretty upset about it, it hadn't caused any noticeable strain on her routine. And so, he presumed, on days that he stayed home dry and warm, Mary ran in the rain.

And he wanted to see Mary. He had been thinking about her since he got home the night before, and he wanted to see her again. And so, he was about to run in the rain, one of his least favorite things in the world to do. He opened the door, sighing as he walked slowly down the stairs to the front door of the building. Sighing, he opened that one as well.

"Mary," he gasped, seeing her standing in front of him, holding an umbrella. "But, how-"

"I came back outside last night, to come after you, but you were already going inside.

"Why did you come after me?" Chandler asked, taking a step outside, but trying to stay under the overhang in order to stay dry.

Mary smiled, moving to the top step. "Because it's been a really long time since I had so much fun on a non-date, and I know we said we're on the same page or paragraph or whatever about that, but-"

Chandler cut her off, pulling her closer to him as he kissed her, ignoring the pouring rain as she wrapped her arms around his neck, dropping her umbrella to the ground. He kissed her over and over, having wanted to do that for some time now, ignoring the people who had started coming out of his building to go to work. When she finally pulled back, they were both breathless, shaking in the cold rain.

"Do you want to come in and warm up?" Chandler asked, unsure of how far he should push this. "I mean, unless you actually wanted to run…."

Mary shook her head fiercely. "I hate running in the rain. I only do it to see you."

Chandler laughed, holding the door open for her to enter, wrapping his arm around her as they headed towards his apartment.

~.~**March 2002**_~.~_

Mary woke up, opening her eyes slowly as she realized where she was. Though she and Chandler had been seeing each other for a few months now, they had yet to actually spend the night at each other's apartment. It seemed to keep things in an un-relationship and un-dating place by not actually spending the night. Last night, though, she had stayed at Chandler's. She had woken up at three-thirty in the morning, completely intending on going home. However, Chandler had rolled over, wrapping his arm around her as he slept. She had nuzzled closer to him, realizing something that scared her: She didn't want to leave.

"We still don't have to call it dating," Chandler's voice broke into Mary's thoughts. "I mean, we can call it, like…Steve…or something, if you want…."

Mary laughed, rolling over to face him. "What time is it?"

"Quarter to seven. Wanna go run?"

"Yea, I just need to go change," she moved to get out of bed, but Chandler pulled her back, kissing her hard, before releasing her. Mary smiled for a moment, nodding at him. "We can call it Steve. See you outside in twenty minutes?" Chandler nodded, watching her leave.

This "Steve," if that's what they were going to call it, didn't appear to be ending anytime soon….

~.~**May 2002**~.~

Chandler sat on one end of the couch, frowning at the screen in front of him, feet up in front of him on his coffee table. From the other end of the couch where she was grading papers, Mary sighed audibly for the third time in the past few minutes, causing Chandler to laugh.

"Wanna trade?" Mary asked, extending the top paper on her pile. "If this kid ends one more sentence in a preposition, I will most likely make a few comments that may or may not make him cry." Chandler again laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, but I'm serious," she scooted closer to him "Trade me," she handed him the paper.

"But if I'm grading your paper, what are you doing for me?"

"Writing your next paragraph," she grabbed his laptop as he took her paper and pen. "Or your first paragraph, it would appear," she laughed at the blank word document. "What have you been doing for the past hour?"

Chandler smiled sheepishly. "Have you ever played the game Bubble Blaster?" He leaned over her, clicking on the web page he had open behind the word document. "Ridiculously addictive."

"Chandler, Chandler, Chandler," she shook her head at him, smiling as she began typing on his computer. Chandler leaned over her, trying to see what she was typing. Mary shook her head again, leaning away. "You can have it back when you're done with that paper."

Chandler laughed, looking down at the paper in front of him, as he started to read through the paper. He frowned at all of the grammatical and spelling mistakes, marking on the paper each time he found one.

"So," Chandler started, "do you take a point off for every certain number of mistakes, because, if so, I don't think that," he flipped back to the front page, "Adam here is going to pass."

Mary took the paper as Chandler handed it to her, flipping through it as well. "That's why I hate grading his papers," she nodded, laughing at the fact that Chandler had drawn smiley faces next to the couple of particularly good points in the paper, and sad faces wherever there were multiple mistakes. "You wrote 'bonus points!' next to the word 'splendiferous?'" Mary laughed, looking at him in amusement. "Is that even a word?"

"I wasn't sure, which was why he earned some bonus points for creativity," Chandler explained with a grin, taking his computer off of Mary's lap. "Let's see what Mary has decided I should write about, shall we?" he raised he eyebrows, looking at the computer screen. He smiled as he read the only line she had written: I am quite fond of this "Steve." "This took you that entire time?" Chandler tried to sound angry, but knew he was failing.

"Oh, no," Mary shook her head. "I did beat your high score on Bubble Blaster, though," she leaned across him, grinning as she showed him the screen. "It's ridiculously addictive."

Chandler laughed, pulling her closer as he wrapped his arms around her, and his next four words were out of his mouth before he even thought them through, "God, I love you."

Mary froze in his arms. And Chandler froze. Because that wasn't where this was supposed to be going. It was supposed to be casual. Neither of them wanted a relationship, and that word sure changed that playing field.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" Chandler started sputtering, but Mary cut him off.

"No, you did," she looked down at her hands, and he loosened his arms from around her. "I-I think we're both kind of lying to ourselves here," she said quietly, and Chandler started to move away. "No-no-no," she grabbed his arm. "That's not what I meant. What I meant was…we both know what this is. And it's not what we wanted, but we can pretend all we want, or call it Steve or John or some other name, but it doesn't change what this," she motioned between them, "is." Chandler nodded, still looking down as she attempted to make eye contact. "Chandler. Chandler," she repeated, pushing his chin up with her finger so that he would look at her. "I love you, too," she whispered. "So, we can call this or not call this whatever we want, but-"

And this time Chandler cut her off, kissing her as he pulled her closer, finally letting himself feel what he had been trying not to feel for nearly six months now, and what a year earlier he hadn't been sure he would ever feel again in the same way he had for Monica.

He loved her.

~.~**September 2002**~.~

"Hey," Chandler greeted Mary with a kiss as he met her for lunch. "Look," he handed her a section of the newspaper, trying to contain his grin.

Mary looked at him oddly, but started reading his column anyway, not really understanding why it was so exciting. Every once in awhile, he'd get really excited about a column and have her read it after he wrote it, but this one didn't seem like one of those, except-

"It's Thursday!" Mary grinned, putting down the paper. "You don't have a column on Thursday!"

"I do now," Chandler grinned as Mary threw her arms around his neck.

"So, you got it?"

"I got it," he continued to grin, kissing her hair as he held her.

"This calls for some major celebrating," Mary pulled back, clapping her hands excitedly. "You don't have to go back to work this afternoon, right? Because I'm done for the day, and this calls for," Mary trailed off, not sure of what it called for. "Well, I don't know, but getting a daily column calls for something more exciting than lunch at a deli," she grabbed his hand, pulling him outside. Chandler grinned, squeezing her hand as she listed off places they could go to celebrate.

~.~**March 2003**~.~

Chandler opened the front door to his apartment, surprised to find Mary standing in the kitchen, arms crossed. Her being there when he got home wasn't completely odd, since she had a key, but her demeanor seemed to be anything but her happy, bubbly self as she stood there in a hoodie and jeans, arms crossed and short hair pulled back the best it could be for how short it was.

"You…okay?" Chandler asked slowly, setting his keys and briefcase on the counter. Mary shook her head, but didn't offer anything else. "Did I do something?" he asked slowly, unsure if he had done something to upset her. Mary again shook her head, this time sighing.

"I'm late," she whispered. "Like, really, really late," she continued, still in a whisper.

"Oh," Chandler said softly, moving over to her. "Did you-have you taken a test or anything?"

Mary shook her head. "I'm too scared to. I've been avoiding actually thinking about this for a couple of weeks, like if I thought about it, it would make it more real. If I avoided it, I could put off dealing with it. If I take a test, and it's positive," she trailed off, wiping the tears from her eyes with the bottom of her sleeves before they fell.

"It'll be okay," Chandler hugged her. "We'll figure it out…."

"I don't want to figure it out," Mary pulled back, shaking her head. "I don't want that. I didn't want this," she again wiped her eyes. "Not that it's bad, or that this is bad, just, none of this is what I wanted right now," she continued, choking back sobs. "I just-I think I need to go think right now," she whispered, staring at the floor.

"'Kay," Chandler whispered in reply, swallowing the knot in his throat.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Mary asked, wiping her eyes as she tried to pull herself together enough to leave. Chandler nodded, still not looking at her, and she paused for a moment, watching him, before walking out the door.

~.~

Chandler again opened the door to his apartment, this time not at all surprised to see Mary standing in his kitchen. He hadn't seen her since the night before, but she had told him she would be there when he got home from work tonight. She seemed to be in a bit of a better mood than the night before, so he took that, at least, as a good sign.

"Hey," he smiled as he closed the door.

"Hey," Mary replied. "So, I got two things that were very exciting today," Mary began, reaching into her right pocket. "One," she pulled out a tampon, and Chandler laughed.

"Always exciting…."

"And, two," she pulled a folded envelope out, handing it to him.

Chandler took the envelope, pulling out the contents. A Yale header and the word "congratulations" were the only things he saw coherently as his heart sank.

"You got in?!" he asked, trying to sound excited for her, since he really was proud of her, despite what he knew it meant.

Mary nodded, biting her lip. "Here's the thing," she began, holding back tears as she steadied her voice. "There's this part of me that can see myself with you. Forever. And, god, I wish I'd met you like five years later or something," she shook her head. "Because I can see that. I can. But," she took a deep shaky breath, "this is my dream," she motioned to the envelope. "I was offered this really great assistanceship, with the professor I wanted to do research with, and," she shrugged as she trailed off.

"And you're going," Chandler finished for her, voice barely audible, and Mary slowly nodded.

"We both said we didn't want a relationship for a reason," Mary shrugged, not sure what else to say to him, and Chandler nodded in agreement. Because they both knew this was it. Mary wasn't going to stay, and Chandler wasn't going to go with her. He had just gotten promoted at work and bought a condo. And they both knew he wasn't about to stop her. He had done the same thing two years earlier, and it would have been hypocritical for him to do anything else but just let her go.

"I really do love you," Mary continued in a whisper.

"I know. I love you, too," he whispered back. "You'll play the part of Dr. Johnson very well," he forced a smile, trying to blink back his tears.

They both knew that this was it. This was The End of their story. They were both still on the same page, the same paragraph, and they knew it was the end. Yes, they could stretch it out until she left in the fall, but it seemed to be a silent agreement that this was it. Why put off the inevitable heartache and make it harder by dragging it out?

Mary stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him as tightly as she could, in a hug so warm that he had once thought only Joey was capable of hugging that warmly. "Thank you for being in my life," she whispered sincerely into his chest, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to stop the tears.

Chandler had to fight to choke back his own crying at that, returning her hug as he kissed the top of her head, whispering, "The pleasure was all mine."

~.~

_Phew, that was exhausting! I've been writing this part in my head forever. Hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I have :) I just really love writing this fic—it's fun and different :)_

_Oh, and this is, way by far, the longest chapter I've ever written—twice as long as most of my chapters. Go me ;)_

_Reviews are always appreciated! I really love the long reviews I'm getting for this :)_


	8. Chapter Eight

Recovering The Satellites

Chapter Eight

~.~

_So, I hate, loathe, despise, ABHOR winter and cold and snow and all of that….BUT, if it's gonna snow, it might as well blizzard so we get two days off of school and I even get out of working both of my jobs for a few days….._

_My car, however, is completely buried in snow, and since I live in an apartment, I do not own a shovel. I'm not sure how I'm going to get anywhere….Guess I'll make friends with someone with a shovel…._

_Anyway, blizzard for me is good new for you, because it's giving me lots of writing time. I was actually able to sit down and write a whole chapter, which I never do, since I usually write in between classes or whatever. Enjoy :)_

~.~**2004**~.~

Mary opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again as she came to a stop in front of Chandler. "Mary," he breathed out, barely in a whisper.

"Hey, you," Mary replied, just as quietly.

"Your hair's long," he smiled, motioning to her hair.

"Yea, I don't know how I feel about it, though," she made a face. "I'll probably end up cutting it all off soon…."

"What are you-what are you doing here? How's school? How's the East Coast?" Chandler asked, not sure how a silent moment would pan out, so needing to fill the silences.

"Oh, um, my dad's throwing an engagement party for Jenna, so I came back for the weekend," she motioned to her sister, who held up her left hand with a grin, wiggling her fingers to show off her ring.

"Finally rope Todd in for good, did ya?" Chandler asked Jenna with a laugh, who nodded enthusiastically. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," the taller, younger version of Mary smiled in return.

"So, how's school?" Chandler repeated.

Mary shrugged, "It's okay."

"So okay you're homesick and want to come home?" Jenna interjected.

"Jenna!" Mary hissed, turning to her sister, who shrugged as she avoided eye contact. Rachel cleared her throat, rather uncomfortable that she had yet to be introduced.

"Oh my god, sorry," Chandler placed a hand on Rachel's back. "This is Rachel."

"Oh my god, you're Rachel!" Mary said enthusiastically as she held out her hand. "I've heard a lot about you. It's so nice to meet you!"

"I've heard a lot about you, too," Rachel replied with a smile, shaking her hand.

"This is my sister, Jenna," Mary continued with the introductions, and the two shook hands as well.

"You know, there were some shoes, in the window of that store back there," Rachel pointed behind them, looking at Jenna.

Jenna nodded. "I like shoes," she agreed, and the two headed back to window-shop to give Mary and Chandler some privacy.

"That was smooth," Chandler laughed, motioning to Jenna and Rachel, and Mary nodded in agreement. "So, you really don't like it out there?" Chandler asked, needing to hear those words from Mary herself.

Mary sighed, looking towards the ground. "I want to, I really, really do, but," she shrugged, looking up at him. "It turns out I already knew who Mary was and didn't need to find myself by getting away from my life here. And, as it turns out, although I wanted to get away from the familiar…I miss randomly running into people I went to high school with at the grocery store, or people I went to college with at bars," she laughed at herself. "I miss seeing my family every weekend, and I miss the weather, and the smell of the ocean, and," she trailed off with a shrug, looking him in the eye, and it seemed to go unspoken that the end of that sentence was, _and I miss you_.

"What about school?" Chandler asked, knowing that if he gave her the chance to finish that sentence they would both be in trouble.

"That's another thing," Mary laughed, shaking her head. "I thought I would enjoy the research and teaching thing, since I had to do some research for my master's degree, but," she shook her head, "it's not what I want to do. I don't want to be all hardcore, doing research as my job and teaching a couple of classes on the side. And that's what that program prepares you for, and I just…I thought I wanted that, but it turns out…I don't."

"Are you really coming home?"

Mary again shrugged. "Who knows; my life is so messed up right now," she shook her head. "I'm applying to a couple of schools back here to become a licensed therapist. I just don't even want to do research for the next three years to get my doctorate. God, I feel like such a failure, though. Like coming home is admitting defeat."

"You're not a failure," Chandler scoffed. "You went there, you gave it a chance, you figured out it wasn't for you…."

"God, you sound like my dad."

"Well, if that isn't disturbing on some level," Chandler teased, and Mary finally allowed herself to smile.

"I just don't know. I thought I had it all so figured out, and as it turns out," Mary sighed, "I had absolutely nothing figured out about what I really wanted. At the least, I'm staying through the end of the summer to finish the project I'm working on and hopefully have a publishable paper…."

"Well, that's something," Chandler offered, and Mary smiled sadly.

"Hey, I ran in the New York City Marathon and qualified for the Boston Marathon!" Mary's face suddenly lit up, deciding to change the subject.

"No way! That's awesome!"

"Yea," Mary nodded. "I was only going to do a half-marathon, but then I decided, hey, if I'm gonna train to run thirteen miles, I might as well make it twenty-six," Mary shrugged, causing Chandler to laugh. "I figure it's a couple of things to cross off of some sort of Bucket List or something…."

"Definitely," Chandler nodded.

"So, what about you? Anything new and exciting?" Mary asked, ignoring Jenna, who she could see pointing to her watch out of the corner of her eye.

Chandler shook his head. "Not really anything."

"Well, Rachel's out here, that's something," Mary pointed out. "Any of your other friends come out here?"

Chandler shook his head. "Not since that one time Joey was out here," he said, watching as Mary kept shifting her gaze to her sister, who was obviously trying to get her attention.

"I actually should probably get going," Mary looked Chandler in the eye as she spoke. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning, but I'll be back in June for a week. I, um, actually planned on calling to see if you wanted to get together then, coffee or dinner or something…?"

"That'd be nice," Chandler smiled sincerely.

"Who knows, maybe I'll have life all figured out by then," Mary laughed.

"If you get life all figured out, give me a call and explain it to me," Chandler laughed as well. "I guess I'll see you in June?"

Mary nodded, hating tearing herself away from him. "I'll see you in June," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. "Bye, Chandler."

"Bye," Chandler breathed out, watching as she walked over to where Jenna was standing. "Congratulations, again, Jenna," he called out after them, and Jenna waved back as they started to walk away, Rachel walking back towards Chandler.

"So," Rachel said slowly as they started walking again. "That's Mary?"

Chandler smiled, nodding as he watched Mary and Jenna turn the corner, heading out of sight. "Yea," he sighed. "That's Mary."

~.~

"So, Phoebe's still with that Mike guy?" Chandler asked, taking a drink of the beer sitting on the table in front of him at the bar they had headed to.

"Yep," Rachel nodded. "They're really cute together. And Joey is still doing _Days of Our Lives _and is, well, Joey," Rachel smiled. "Have you talked to him lately?"

Chandler shook his head. "Not in months." Rachel watched him, playing with the napkin beneath his beer mug. Finally looking up and seeing the look she was giving him, he squinted his eyes at her. "What?"

"Nothing it's just," Rachel trailed off.

"It's just…."

Rachel sighed, offering a slight smile. "You look at her like you looked at Monica," she said softy. Chandler nodded as he looked down. "Is she really coming back here?"

Chandler shrugged before downing the rest of his beer. "She isn't even sure," he replied quietly. "I'm not gonna let myself think she is and get my hopes up."

"Right," Rachel replied. "Hey, um, I've been meaning to tell you this, and I know we kind of have an unspoken agreement that we don't talk about her, but," Rachel took a deep breath, "Monica's getting married," she finished quietly. "I just thought you might want to know."

Chandler nodded silently, staring at the empty beer mug in front of him. "Good for her," he continued nodding. "I mean, is he? Good for her?"

Rachel nodded. "I think so. I mean, I've only met him once, and I've probably only seen Monica maybe twice in the past year, but Phoebe seems to think so, and she's good at reading people. She's actually how they met."

"That's good, then," Chandler nodded, motioning for the waitress to bring him another drink. "I mean, I want her to be happy." Rachel nodded, watching him for a moment, deep in thought.

"Kinda hurts right here, though, doesn't it?" she finally asked, making a fist and motioning to her stomach.

"Kinda," Chandler nodded. "It shouldn't, but it does."

"Sorry to kick you more when you're down, I just thought-"

"No, you're fine," Chandler interrupted her, pausing as he took a drink of the new beer the waitress had brought. "I really am happy for her. Makes me feel a little less guilty…."

Rachel forced a small smile, reaching for his hand from across the table. Chandler looked up at her, trying to force a smile back, before taking another long drink of his beer.

"Looks like it's not gonna be too hard for you guys to decide who's gonna get drunk and sing karaoke tonight," Rachel chuckled, referring to what he had said earlier in the night.

"Oh yea, definitely not," Chandler agreed, pausing for a moment as he thought. "Hey, if nothing else, Monica getting married makes me feel less guilty about the fact that I stole you as her best friend, and that I'm pretty sure I flirt with you a good majority of the time."

"Another good point, "Rachel laughed, thinking that if he was already drunk, this was going to be either a very long or very short night.

~.~

A couple of hours later, after meeting the majority of Chandler's colleagues and incessant arguing over who they were actually going to get to sing, Chandler had finally been coaxed into it (the many beers he had already downed gave him a completely unfair disadvantage).

"So," Rachel asked, walking up beside Chandler, who was sitting on a barstool looking through the book of songs, trying to decide on one. "What's the verdict?"

Chandler nodded, still looking down. "Well, I'm debating between Journey, _Don't Stop Believing_, and Norah Jones, _Don't Know Why_…." Rachel burst out laughing. "What?"

"Those are just two really, really random choices."

"You make a suggestion, then," he grinned, motioning to the book, and she took a step closer to him so she could see it, setting her own drink on the table. Chandler leaned forward as he watched Rachel flip through the pages.

"_American Pie_?"

"I don't think anyone wants to listen to me sing for ten minutes," Chandler scoffed, and Rachel shrugged.

"Fine, I'm going to flip it open to a page," she closed the book, "and you're going to sing whatever song I end up pointing to," she finished. Closing her eyes, she stuck her finger in one of the pages, opening it back up. She looked down at the page, her face falling as she went to turn the page. "Bad idea," she shook her head.

"Why? What is it?" Chandler laughed, trying to grab the book. "It can't be that bad," he stood up, leaning over her when she refused to let go of it. His face fell as well, however, when he saw what the song was: The Way You Look Tonight. "You're just hell-bent on keeping me down tonight, aren't you?" Chandler asked, trying to sound like he was joking, but not succeeding.

"No, Chandler, I'm sorry," Rachel said, grabbing his arm as he tried to walk away. "Here, um," she pulled him back over. "Go with a classic? _Sweet Caroline_? Or go with your first choice, _Don't Stop Believing_, always a crowd-pleaser," Rachel again flipped through the book as Chandler returned to her side, one hand on her back. "Or-" she turned to face him, but stopped speaking at the look on his face. It was a familiar look, one she even recognized from him, just not a familiar one coming from him, directed at her.

And then he was kissing her. She had been drinking as well, but he tasted strongly of beer, but getting past that, he wasn't a bad kisser. Not at all. It crossed her mind, for a moment, that he was not at all in the state of mind to be doing this with at the moment, but as the kiss deepened, his hand still on her lower back as he pulled her closer, combined with the fact that he was right and they had been flirting for years, as well as the haze of the alcohol and the fact that she hadn't made out with, let alone slept with a man in too many months to count, she let the first thought fly right out the window.

Chandler finally pulled back, his only coherent thought being that they were too old to be making out in the middle of a crowded bar, and Rachel again recognized his look: he needed to get out of there. Not wanted to get out of there, but needed to. And so she took his hand, shoving the karaoke song book away from them as they headed towards the door, walking the few blocks to his apartment in complete silence.

The moment they were through the front door, they were kissing again, Rachel kicking off her heels as they moved towards the couch, not about to make it down the hall to the bedroom. There was some sort of need, of urgency, in their kissing, on both of their parts. Rachel dropped her purse to the ground as they landed on the couch, and he started pulling at her shirt that was tucked in to her skirt. Rachel followed along, unbuttoning his dress shirt as his hand began to wander beneath hers, her heart racing at the contact of his skin on hers.

The ring of Rachel's cell phone broke into the silence of the room as they both ignored it, continuing with kissing and undressing each other. After a brief pause, her phone again started ringing, and Rachel pulled away this time, breathless. "Shit, that's my mom's ringer, and it's like two in the morning at home," she leaned over, digging through her purse for her phone. "Hi, Mom?" she finally answered, still sitting on top of Chandler. 'Sorry,' she mouthed, listening to what her mom was saying. "Wait, what? What happened?" she moved off of Chandler, sitting beside him. "You haven't been able to get a hold of Amy or Jill? Well who's there with him?" she paused. "Yea, no, I'm in California for the weekend. No-no, it's fine. I'm on my way—Yea, thanks for calling. Bye," Rachel hung up the phone, Chandler looked at her concerned. "My dad's in the hospital. He had a heart attack," she whispered.

"Oh, Rach, I'm sorry," Chandler offered softly.

"I need-I need to get home," she stood up, heading towards the bathroom, beginning to gather her things.

Chandler took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down and straighten out his head before walking across the room, grabbing his computer from the kitchen counter to look up flight times.

"There's a red eye that leaves in about an hour," Chandler said quietly as Rachel came from his bedroom, pulling her suitcase behind her. Rachel sat down beside him, staring at the computer screen before digging through her purse for her wallet and pulling out her credit card. Rachel took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly as she tried to hold back her tears. "He'll be okay," Chandler rubbed her arm, and Rachel barely attempted a nod in return, staring at the computer screen. Leaning forward, she clicked to change the quantity of tickets being searched for from "one" to "two" before looking at Chandler pleadingly. Chandler nodded, kissing her hair before standing up. "Give me thirty seconds," he said quietly, standing up to pack.

When he returned to the living room, Rachel was standing by the door, bags in hand, ready to go. She was, however, more composed than a few minutes earlier, no longer on the verge of crying, though her eyes were still red. "Ready?" she whispered, and Chandler nodded, following her out the door.

By the time the events of the entire night began to sink in, Chandler was sitting on a plane on his way to New York City, trying not to think too hard about what the possibilities that a trip back home could mean.

~.~

_thanks for the reviews—keep it up, please :)_


	9. Chapter Nine

Recovering the Satellites

Chapter Nine

~.~

_Just looked at the stats for this story, and realized I have a HUGE amount of lurkers, more so than most of my stories. Hi, lurkers! I'm glad more than the people reviewing this are reading it, because, as I've said before, I just love this fic. It's my favorite thing that I've written, I feel like it's a bit more grown-up than many of my stories, and I'm just very proud of it :) So, thank you to my reviewers AND readers on this one._

_A-and, now that I sound all full of myself, I'm just gonna move on…._

_Just so ya know, this week is finals week, next week is the week of Christmas so I'll be working tons, and the week after that I'm going out of town, so if I disappear and don't update as frequently, don't worry! I'll be back soon :) I will try to squeeze one more part in before I leave, but don't hold me to that!_

~.~**2004**~.~

"Chandler. Chandler, we're landing." Chandler woke up to the sound of Rachel's voice and the "bing" of the fasten-seatbelt signs lighting back up as the plane began its descent over the city. He groaned, rubbing at his neck as he attempted to move it to the side he hadn't been sleeping on, catching sight of the New York City skyline out the window in the process, pausing momentarily to take it in. "How ya feelin' over there?" Rachel asked with a laugh.

"Like I need a super strong combination of water, coffee, and advil," he sighed, squeezing his eyes shut for a second, trying to ignore his hangover. "Are you okay?" he asked, turning to look at her.

Rachel sighed. "I guess. I've been trying not to think about it. I just really need to see him," she trailed off, squeezing Chandler's hand when he offered it. "How's it feel to be home?" Rachel changed the subject, motioning to the window, and Chandler again turned his attention outside, to the view now of the airport.

"Surreal," he whispered, staring at the sight of the last part of the city he'd seen when he left, three years earlier. "Very surreal…."

~.~

"Elevators, elevators," Rachel said under her breath as they rushed through the doors of the hospital on Long Island, having gone straight there from the airport. Finally spotting them, she rushed towards the elevators, Chandler two steps behind her. Getting off on the third floor, as she had been instructed to do by her mom, she headed straight towards the first nurse's station she saw. "Hi, I'm looking for Leonard Green?" she asked, looking back and forth between the two nurses standing there.

"Are you family?" the younger of the two asked. "Otherwise visiting hours don't start for another hour."

"I'm his daughter," Rachel nodded, following her as she started walking down the hall. "How is he, is he okay?" Rachel asked, pausing when Chandler reached for her suitcase.

"I'll wait over there?" he asked, nodding to the lobby.

Rachel smiled appreciatively. "Thank you, Chandler," she said softly, before rushing to catch up with the nurse.

Chandler sat down with a heavy sigh in one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, setting his and Rachel's suitcases on the chair beside him. He leaned back, closing his eyes. He still couldn't believe he was in New York. He had often thought about what going back home would be like, but this was never the situation that came into play. He also knew once they actually left the hospital and headed back to Manhattan, it would be an entirely different story, one he wasn't sure he was ready for. They had been in such a rush leaving the airport to get to the hospital, where he was never really sank in.

And then there was the issue of what was happening the night before when Rachel's mom called to deal with.

Trying to push all of those thoughts out of his mind, he looked around, and spotting a vending machine in the corner, headed over to it. Frowning at what he had to choose from, he decided that pretzels and what would most likely be stale coffee would have to do, before heading back to his seat to wait for Rachel.

~.~

"Hey, sleepyhead." Chandler shot up in his seat when Rachel sat beside him, startling him. "Wanna go get some real sleep?" she asked, and it was then that Chandler noticed how completely drained she looked.

"What time is it?"

"Almost eleven," Rachel said, looking down at her watch. "Amy just got here and is ordering me to leave for a while, and I think I'm just tired enough to let her," Rachel yawned. "I think I've been up for," she paused for a moment, thinking. "Twenty-seven hours? Huh, yea, let's go sleep," she grabbed her suitcase, standing up.

"How's he doing?" Chandler asked as they walked back towards the elevators.

"Okay, stable," she sighed. "He's still pretty heavily sedated, and he's scheduled for by-pass surgery tomorrow, but for now, he's okay," she said sadly. "See, this is why you don't smoke," she looked at him accusatorily, but continued before he had a chance to defend himself. "He's a doctor, you'd think he'd know these things," she sighed, angrily hitting the down button on the elevator. Chandler looked at her sympathetically, rubbing her arm at a lack of what to say. Rachel smiled appreciatively as the elevator doors opened, letting him lead the way inside.

~.~

"And this, is Chez Rachel," Rachel said with fake enthusiasm as she opened the door to the apartment she had been living in for the past couple of years, dropping her keys on the counter and leaving her suitcase by the door as Chandler followed her in, looking around. "Hey, Mr. Darcy, you miss me?" she asked as she picked up her cat, who was brushing against her legs. "Thank you for coming with me," she added, to Chandler, as she set the cat back down, leaning back against the kitchen counter. "I know how much you don't want to be here."

"Don't worry about it," Chandler shook his head, moving closer to her. "I mean, I had to come back here at some point in time."

"Well I really appreciate it," Rachel said, now obviously close to tears as she started to lose the calm pretense she'd had since they'd left his apartment. Chandler let her, knowing she needed to get it out after staying so put together on the plane and at the hospital. "It's just-I just," she wiped at her eyes, trailing off. "Everyone else's parents or grandparents or whoever get sick, but everyone you love is supposed to be invincible, ya know?" she continued on, and Chandler wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "And I know I haven't relied on him for years, and I'm a capable, independent adult, and I guess-I guess I don't _need him_-need him, but," she sobbed, nearly hyperventilating now. "He's still-he's still-he's still my daddy," she forced out, breaking down completely, and Chandler wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly.

"It'll be okay," he whispered, rubbing her back. "He'll be okay," he whispered, kissing the top of her head, continuing to rub her back until he felt her breathing start to return to normal as the silent sobs subsided. "You okay?" he asked softly as she pulled slightly away, and Rachel just shrugged.

"I will be," she nodded, wiping at her eyes. "Seriously, thank you for coming with me," she again repeated, and Chandler smiled, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

"No problem," he whispered, but was taken back when Rachel grasped the back of his neck, pulling him closer as she kissed him. He kissed back for a moment before realizing the situation. "Rach," he pulled back slightly, shaking his head.

"No-no, don't stop, okay?" Rachel pleaded.

"But-"

"But, what? We're just finishing what we were doing earlier. It's not-it's not anything other than that."

"Rach…"

"Please, Chandler," she whispered, one hand still on the back of his neck, their faces only inches apart. And when she stood on her toes to close those last few inches and kiss him, he didn't pull away, letting the combination of wanting to finish what they had started earlier cloud the lack of mental clarity he already had from the lack of sleep and odd mixture of events and emotions from the past twenty-four hours.

~.~

Rachel woke up to the sun shining through her open curtains. She opened her eyes but didn't role over, Chandler's arm still thrown across her stomach as he lie next to her. She wasn't entirely sure what to do or how to behave, the simple solution for her feelings the night before not seeming so simple now. But she needed to get up and at least see what time it was, since her father's surgery was at ten and she wanted to be at the hospital before then. And, of course, her alarm clock was on the side of the bed Chandler was sleeping on.

"It's quarter 'til eight," Chandler broke into her thoughts. "I don't know what time you wanted to be at the hospital by, but it's quarter 'til eight right now," he added softly, kissing her hair from behind before pulling away, moving over slightly on the bed.

"Thanks," Rachel rolled over to face him, smiling at her loss of what to say, before looking down at the blanket in front of her.

"We've known each other too long to make this awkward, right?" Chandler finally spoke. "What, like fifteen or so years? We don't need to be awkward…."

Rachel looked up, nodding. "I will have to agree with that," she smiled. "We should probably get going, though. Dad's surgery is at ten, and I wanted to get there early enough to see him first," she paused. "God, I'm starving. Did we even eat yesterday? I can't believe we slept all evening and all night," she shook her head, pulling her robe on that was hanging by her door.

"Well, we didn't _sleep_ quite the whole time," Chandler smirked, causing Rachel to pause and shake her head. "Go shower," Chandler laughed, "I'll go see if you have anything for breakfast."

"Thanks, Chandler," Rachel smiled at him, pausing a moment longer before heading into the bathroom off of her bedroom.

Chandler smiled after her a moment longer, before realizing just how hungry he was as well. Rachel was right, they hadn't eaten the day before, other than the pretzels he had at the hospital and a sad, little bag of trail mix on the plane. Pulling his boxers on, he headed down the hallway to the kitchen, startled when someone else was standing out there, as well.

"I have mace _and_ a black belt in karate!"

Chandler jumped backwards at the threat, laughing when he realized it was Phoebe. "Phoebs, it's me."

"Chandler?" Phoebe said as he moved closer. "Chandler!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him in a hug. "What the hell are you doing?" she smacked his arm when she pulled away. "Rachel is supposed to be in California with you!"

"Sorry," Chandler again laughed. "Rachel's dad had a heart attack so we came back yesterday. She's showering right now. What are _you_ doing here?"

"Feeding the cat," she motioned to Mr. Darcy. "God, you scared the shit out of me! I thought I was going to have to kick some ass," she said, sounding rather disappointed. "It's so good to see you, though!" she again hugged him. "Although, a bit awkward, because you're not really wearing any clothes," Phoebe added, eyebrows raised in accusation as she pulled away.

"Yea, I'll be right back," Chandler said as he headed to the bedroom, coming back a few minutes later in the jeans he'd been wearing the day before and his undershirt.

Rachel got out of the shower, pulling her robe back on and deciding that getting dressed could wait because her stomach was demanding food. As she got closer to the kitchen she frowned, wondering who the voices and laughter was coming from.

"Oh my god, Phoebe, I'm sorry," Rachel said as she entered the kitchen. "I should have told you I came home early."

"Yea, I about kicked Chandler's ass earlier because he scared the shit out of me," Phoebe nodded, sitting at the breakfast bar with Chandler, who was eating a bagel. Rachel sat beside him, where there was another bagel and the other half of the grapefruit he was eating, as well as a cup of coffee. She smiled at him appreciatively before beginning to eat. "Well, as interesting as this," Phoebe motioned between the two of them, "is, I actually have to get to work. Rach, if I have time, I'll stop by the hospital later?"

"Thanks, Phoebs," Rachel smiled at her.

"It was really good to see you, Chandler. Sorry about the almost-macing…."

"Hey, as long as it's almost," he laughed.

"See you guys later," Phoebe added as she headed out the door, leaving Chandler and Rachel alone.

Rachel turned to Chandler, looking at him for a moment before he realized it and turned to her. "What?"

"Nothing," Rachel smiled. "Just…thank you."

"You said that already," Chandler returned her smile.

"I know, I just, I really," she sighed. "Thank you."

"Well, you're welcome," he smiled, standing up as he took his dishes to the sink. "I'm gonna go shower so we can get going."

"'Kay," Rachel nodded, watching him walk down the hall. She sighed before taking a long drink of her coffee, wishing she had enough mental energy to try to figure out what was going on with Chandler while still worrying about her dad. _Later_, she decided. She would know, soon enough, that her dad was fine, and would be able to figure the rest of it out later.

~.~

Chandler leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees as he stared at the tiled hospital floor, waiting with Rachel on news about her dad, who was still in surgery. Rachel checked her phone every few minutes, knowing Jill was on her way and would be there shortly. As some one neared them, Chandler looked up, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of the one person he had least expected to see. He squeezed Rachel's hand, which he was holding, tightly, and she looked up as Chandler barely choked out, "Monica."


	10. Chapter Ten

Recovering the Satellites

Chapter Ten

~.~

~.~_**flasback**_~.~

Chandler woke up long before Monica, long before the sun was even all the way up outside their bedroom window. He didn't get up right away, though, instead lying beside her, thinking and watching her sleep. None of his thoughts had changed since his conversation with Rachel the night before. Nothing made any more or less sense than it had then, and he knew that meant he needed to talk to Monica. He could hear how that conversation went, though, ending with her yelling and not hearing him out. Every way he worded it in his head, it ended with her getting mad. Yelling, crying, not understanding. Each scenario ended with Monica hurt.

Was it worth it?

Chandler squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't just go on, though, settling until he was old and cynical and bitter. Rachel was right, if he didn't know what he wanted right now, or what he needed to be happy, how on earth could he make someone else happy? Even if Monica was hurt now, wouldn't that be better than being more unhappy and uncertain a few years down the road? He might be hurting more than just Monica then.

Holding back tears, Chandler opened his eyes, again watching Monica. He loved her. Whether or not she was following along with his whole safety school path, he did love her. That much he knew. But there was still a feeling in the pit of his stomach tugging at him about all of the paths in life he hadn't taken, hadn't even given a chance. All he could think was how lost he felt, how incomplete he felt, like he had yet to live up to any kind of potential. All he could think was how uneasy his comfortable life made him.

Brushing the hair from Monica's face, though, he entertained the idea that maybe she was worth ignoring all of those other feelings. Maybe comfortable was enough. People settle for safety schools all the time.

But he had to talk to her. If he didn't, and he just continued on his current life path, he was just going to end up bitter and resentful. And, god, he didn't want to resent her.

"Mmm, are you awake already?" Monica mumbled, still half asleep.

"Yea, but it's still early. Go back to sleep," he whispered, kissing her forehead. He stayed put for a moment, but when he was sure she was asleep again, decided to get up. Though he was certain more thinking would just lead to thinking in the same circles he had been thinking in for hours now, he needed some coffee and to think some more. Maybe, just maybe, if he continued thinking, he would finally get somewhere with it.

~.~

Chandler sat at the kitchen table, fidgeting with the edge of the newspaper as he worked on the crossword puzzle. Well, the crossword puzzle was in front of him, but only two words were filled in. The things on his mind were anything other than the trivial questions in front of him.

"Okay, what's wrong with you today?" Monica finally asked, walking into the kitchen from the living room, having watched him fidget all morning.

"What would be wrong with me?" Chandler asked, and off of Monica's look, conceded with a shrug. "Well, there kind of is something I wanted to talk to you about…."

"What?" Monica asked, trying not to let how concerned she was over the tone of his voice show.

"Well, see, I've been doing some thinking lately," he started slowly, setting the paper down as he stood up. "And here's the thing…the thing is…."

"What, is the thing?" Monica asked slowly, not sure what she should be expecting, hoping that this wasn't Chandler freaking out over getting married like she'd been half expecting him to do for months.

"Okay, well, so, I was thinking, just about everything in my life, and, the thing is, okay…. The thing is, I feel like, overall in my life, I've just been settling for safety school after safety school," he started nervously. "Like, college, stayed here and went to NYU, my safety school. Didn't even apply anywhere else. After college, I took the first job I was offered, even though I had no interest in it, and have stayed there ever since. And if I didn't work there, I don't even know what I would want to do! It's like, I've just settled so many times, for so long, that I don't even know what I really want, what would really make me happy. I don't know who I even am."

"What are you saying?" Monica crossed her arms. "Am I a safety school in this, too?"

"Yes," Chandler started. "No," he quickly added off her hurt look. "I mean, kind of. You're safe. You're comfortable," he clarified.

"Are you really doing this?" Monica cut him off angrily. "Is this really some bullshit cold feet thing? Because I've honestly kind of been expecting it, but this isn't exactly how I thought it would go."

"No, it's not," Chandler sighed heavily. "It's…it's more than that. It's…my entire life, or the past ten or so years, at least. It's like I've settled relentlessly into so many roles, that I just…don't even recognize myself anymore. I don't even know who I am or what I want."

"What the hell are you doing, Chandler?" Monica finally raised her voice. "I thought you got over all of these weird, commitment issues. I thought you'd moved past all of this."

"It's not about that, Mon," Chandler tried to keep calm, knowing the yelling had been coming.

"What the hell is this, then? Do you want to quit your job? Do you not want to marry me, what?"

"It's…it's me saying that…if I don't know what I want in life, and what makes me happy, I don't know how I can make someone else happy…."

Monica stared at the floor for a beat, before looking up at Chandler. "Is that really how you feel?" Monica pleaded, eyes red from the tears she was trying to force back, although anger was still evident in her voice. "All of that, all of what you just said, is that really how you feel about me, about your life?" Chandler looked at her for a moment, taking her in, eyes red, chest rising rapidly as she tried to fight the balance of anger and sadness, before nodding his head slowly. "Then I'll make this decision really easy for you. You can just leave," she spat out, pulling her engagement ring off of her finger. "If that's how you really feel, then you'd better get the hell out before I get back," she headed towards the door, "and you can keep your fucking ring," she added, chucking it across the kitchen at him. It hit him hard, square on the forehead, before Monica turned on her heel, slamming the door shut behind her.

Chandler squeezed his eyes shut, taking deep breaths as he counted to ten. Although he had still held onto some kind of hope that she would understand where he was coming from, he had known better. And he knew she was probably overreacting, that she could have entertained the thought of him "finding himself" by quitting his job or going back to school or moving away or whatever else he needed to do, if she just calmed down and thought it through. And maybe, maybe if he had framed his feelings in a way that didn't make it sound like he was settling by being with her, she would have actually heard him out. Or maybe he should have talked to Rachel again, because she had been so understanding about his feelings, maybe she could have helped him word them right.

No. No, he had used her words. Maybe he should have used different words.

None of that mattered, though. The only thing that mattered was that he needed to get out of there as fast as he could. He needed to be gone before she got back, before any of his other friends ran into him. If he was really going to leave, he needed to do it. Not think, but do it.

So, pushing his feelings down and thoughts away, he headed into the bedroom, pulling out a duffel bag. He was doing this. After that conversation with Monica, he was past the point of no return, and he was doing this.

Suddenly, as if he had fast-forwarded time, his things were packed, he was scribbling a note to Monica, and her ring and his key were sitting on the counter. Chandler took a step back, looking around the apartment, in disbelief of the events of the past few minutes.

He was doing this.

With that thought in mind, he turned, still stuck in a haze as he blinked back tears, closing the door slowly behind him. He then hailed a cab quicker than he ever had before in his life, not wanting to face anyone else, afraid he would lose his nerve and break down if so.

As he neared the airport, he felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack. He was really doing this, really just up and leaving his life. He suddenly realized he hadn't given any notice to his job, but decided that he would fax a letter of resignation from whatever hotel he ended up at that night. He expected a call from Doug first thing Monday morning, but there was nothing he could do to talk him into coming back this time.

"Hey, man, you gettin' out?" Chandler snapped out of his thoughts, suddenly aware that they were in front of the airport, again feeling as if he'd been transported in time, not remembering the cab ride. He reached for his wallet, pulling out two twenties and handing them to the driver before stepping out. He took a deep breath, hands shaking as he walked in the doors, still in disbelief about his actions.

People didn't really do this, did they? People talk about it all the time, leaving to find themselves, ponder what could have been had they chosen a different route in life, but does anyone over the age of twenty actually do it? Up and leave their life to answer those questions? At that point, he realized, it didn't matter. He had just thrown away the best relationship of his life, hadn't even bothered to say goodbye to any of his other friends, had his letter of resignation written in his head, and was standing in front of the arrival and departure monitors at the airport. Whether or not people actually did this in real life suddenly seemed like a moot point.

After all, _he_ was doing this.

Stepping up to the first ticket counter, he forced a smile, still trying to steady his hands in his nervousness.

"How can I help you, sir?" the girl behind the counter, who couldn't have been more than eighteen, offered a genuine smile.

Chandler took a deep breath, praying he would find the nerve to speak, and when he did, that it would come out with much more confidence than he had in himself at the moment. Licking his lips, he offered a small smile in return. "I'd like to buy a ticket…."

~.~

_Um, I'm not thrilled with this part. In fact, although I've had it planned since the beginning, and had even said I would go back and explain the second chapter in more detail (which this was), I almost decided to skip over it and not post it. But, I am. Sorry to still leave you guys hanging about the whole Mondler running into each other thing…you'll just have to wait until after the holidays to find out what happens. ;)_

_Also, I really wanted to write a holiday fic, I even have one in mind (actually two in mind!), I just haven't had time to sit down and write them yet. I have like two weeks left of break when I get back, though, so I should be able to then. _

_Anywho, thanks for the reviews so far, keep it up, and Happy Holidays and all that jazz :) See you guys after New Year's!_


	11. Chapter Eleven

Recovering the Satellites

Chapter Eleven

~.~

_First of all, Happy New Year!_

_Second of all, I realize that Chandler was a bit of an ass in how he confronted Monica about his feelings towards his life, but I think that he would have done that because he expected Monica to react badly to what he had to tell her, so he acted in a way to get the reaction he expected. Self-fulfilling prophecy. Did I mention I'm a psych major and I will come up with a psychological theory for everything in life? Seriously, I do it at work and school all the time. And while watching TV/movies. O-oh, I am just __**that**__ big of a dork :) Or, ya know, I just really enjoy what I'm studying, which, I think, is probably a good thing, especially if I have four years of grad school ahead of me._

~.~ **2004**~.~

_So why'd you come home_

_To this sleepless town_

_It's a lifetime commitment_

_Recovering the satellites_

_All anybody really wants to know is_

_When you gonna come down?_

_When you gonna come down…_

(_Recovering the Satellites_, Counting Crows)

Monica nearly froze when she saw who was sitting next to Rachel in the waiting room of the hospital, the wind knocked completely from her lungs as nausea overtook her. She stopped walking for a moment, trying to remind herself to breathe. Why did it hurt this badly to see him again, nearly three years later? It shouldn't hurt this badly; it should be easy. Why, then, was she resisting the urge to run in the opposite direction? Stomach in her throat, Monica finally decided to keep walking instead of crawl back into the elevator, realizing why Phoebe had told her that Rachel's dad was there, and why she had made it seem so urgent.

_Closure_. That's the word she kept repeating to herself as she neared Chandler. _Closure_. It resonated in her head. Closure. Closure. Closure. She chanted it to herself, taking baby steps, praying he didn't look up, not wanting to feel his gaze on her.

Closure.

Rachel flipped open her cell phone, again sighing as she was still waiting on her sister. Feeling Chandler suddenly squeeze her hand tightly, she looked up with surprise equal to his as he barely choked out, "Monica." Monica stopped directly in front of the two, looking first at Chandler, and then at Rachel, before she spoke.

"I, um, Phoebe told me your dad was here, but I think she may have made it sound worse than it actually is and have completely ulterior motives," Monica forced a smile and a laugh, directing her comment at Rachel.

"Yea, um, he's in surgery now, but he should be okay," Rachel nodded, looking first at Monica, then Chandler, who were now staring at each other. "Jill is going to be here any minute, so I'm just gonna go down to the lobby and wait for her," Rachel stood up, leaving the two alone as she headed towards the elevator.

"Hi," Chandler finally offered softly, standing up from his chair.

"Hi," Monica replied, just as quietly, silence ensuing as they both stared awkwardly at one another. She had expected it to be awkward seeing him again, and if it had been anytime more than a year earlier, she very likely would have done something like hitting him or kneeing him somewhere to cause some sort of physical pain, but she had finally moved on from wishing harm on him.

Although, that feeling may have been easier to deal with than this one. She almost wished that Phoebe, sneaky as she was, had warned her about Chandler, prepared her for seeing him again. Although, if she was being completely honest with herself, she very likely wouldn't have come if she had known.

And so they stood, both struggling inwardly, until Chandler stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Monica as he hugged her. To her surprise, Monica not only let him, but gladly accepted, hugging him back as well, and despite herself, she still couldn't swallow the knot in her throat, her eyes closing as he held her tightly. Finally forcing herself to breathe, she immediately regretted it; he smelled the same. They always say that scent is the strongest sense tied to memory, but you never think anything of it until it hits you, an eerily familiar scent that sends your memory racing through the past.

And in that moment, she was suddenly years younger, playing pool with Chandler at the bar. Laughing in the coffee house with everyone. Cuddling on the couch with Chandler. Still on London time. Waking up with him on a random Sunday morning. A hard eight. Making room for his clothes in her closet. A tear-filled proposal. Her last morning waking up with him.

And then shoving the last boxes of his belongings towards Rachel as she told her to get out as well. Crying as she held his note, his ring, his key, trying to make sense of it all after everyone had left. Holding back tears as she clung to the last shirt of his she found in the laundry a week later. The feeling in the pit of her stomach when she woke up alone on their would-be wedding day.

Monica blinked back tears; Chandler had no idea the dangers held in not switching up his cologne after all that time. She wasn't sure whether to be thankful for his silence in return or not, finding herself at a loss of what should happen next. Thankfully, Chandler was ahead of her on that front.

"There's, um, ridiculously stale coffee in that vending machine over there," Chandler offered, motioning behind them as they both pulled away, trying to keep their emotions in check.

Monica nodded, biting her bottom lip. "Ridiculously stale coffee would be good," she whispered, following his lead as he headed over to the machine. Chandler slid change into the machine, handing Monica the first paper cup after it was full, before grabbing his own. They made their way back to the very corner of the waiting room, both agreeing on the need for privacy. They sat in silence for a moment, facing each other, sipping the stale coffee.

Chandler ran a hand over his unshaven face, suddenly wishing he'd taken the time to shave that morning or had something on that wasn't wrinkled from being waded up in a suitcase, having no idea that, of all things, Monica was also thinking the same, that she wished she was wearing something other than the pair of jeans and hoodie she had thrown on on her day off.

"I'm sorry," Chandler finally whispered after what seemed like an eternal silence, causing Monica to look up suddenly. "For what it's worth…I'm sorry for hurting you, Mon."

Monica flinched at the familiar nickname, and part of her wanted to scream at him not to call her that. He didn't deserve the right to call her that anymore. But the other part of her flinched because it, once again, hurt. She had buried Chandler deep in the past, and having him shoved back into her face hurt to no end.

Monica nodded, taking another sip from the paper cup, struggling inwardly. She half wanted to let him think she was okay, that she was strong. Monica had always been strong. But, the other half of her wanted him to know just how badly he hurt her, to feel the pain he had caused, to know what him leaving did to her. That part of her won.

"You broke me," she finally said softly, staring down at the cup in her hands. "When you left, just left like that, a couple of months before we were supposed to get married," she now looked up at him, "you _broke_ me, Chandler." Chandler opened his mouth to speak, but Monica shook her head. "No, I get to talk," she snapped. "I spent so long wondering why. _Why_. I just…didn't understand, couldn't possibly fathom why you would just quit our relationship as casually as you quit your job just because you were unhappy. I didn't understand how you could do any of that, and just never hear from you again, if you loved me even close to as much as you said you did, even as much as I _know_ you did."

"I didn't leave because I didn't love you," Chandler shook his head, now fighting his own tears.

"I know that. Now. **Now**, I know that," Monica nodded with a sigh. "I hated you for so long, Chandler. So long. I wished bad things on you. I hoped you were miserable wherever you ended up," she looked him in the eye, needing to feel that what she was saying got to him, which she knew very well it did. "Because you crushed me," she added, in an uncharacteristically small voice for Monica. "I didn't let it show that you crushed me, though. I mean, our whole perfect, little Central Perk-based life fell apart, and I let that happen because it crushed me just as much that Rachel would even say she understood where you were coming from in needing to find yourself or whatever the hell it was that you said. And for a long time it hurt to even see Joey or Phoebe because it just all reminded me of you, of the life we had. Ross still isn't even speaking to Rachel because she forgave you, and he saw how badly you hurt me. But," she shook her head, "overall, I didn't let it show that you crushed me. Outside of our little group, no one would have guessed it."

"I'm sorry," Chandler repeated slowly, setting his coffee on the table beside them as he reached for Monica's hands, which were twisting the top edge of her cup. "Hurting you…hurting you was never my intention."

"Well, that didn't stop it from happening, did it?"

"I guess not," Chandler whispered as he pulled back.

"Anyway," Monica took a deep breath. "I spent a good two years hating you, loathing you. And then last year, Phoebe printed off one of your columns and told me to read it. That was all she said."

"I didn't even know Phoebe read my column."

"Apparently," Monica shrugged. "Anyway, it was the column about the points in life when you need to be selfish, and about loving someone enough to let them be. And I know it wasn't about me or directed towards me in any way, and I would be lying if I said curiosity didn't get the better of me and read the rest of that week's columns, and I could just feel you hurting…."

"The week Mary left," Chandler said more to himself than her.

"And I cried. Reading what you wrote, I cried. It made you so real to me again, and I had been so numb over you for so long. But I suddenly realized that I had been so busy hating you, that I never let myself be sad over you or miss you," she paused. "And then all of a sudden, I did. I let myself miss you, and not just as the man I was supposed to marry, but as one of my close friends for years, and our, all of our, lives during that time," she continued on. "Don was great during all of that. He understood in a way I could never expect anyone to understand that whole situation. We hadn't even been together all that long, but he didn't get jealous or mad, he just…let me be. Let me miss everything I had once had, and gave me space to move on. Between that and both of us wanting to live in a house made of smelly cheese…." Monica trailed off with a smile, and Chandler laughed.

"You knew you had to marry him?"

"Something like that," Monica shrugged, looking down at her engagement ring, which she had noticed Chandler was staring at. He was in a weird way relieved to find it looked nothing like the ring he gave her when he made all of those promises to her that he ended up crushing when he left. "I still have your ring if you want it," she added quieter. "I didn't feel right getting rid of it, but could never work up the nerve to ask Rachel for your address to send it to you."

"Keep it," Chandler shook his head. "Use the diamond in a necklace or something." Monica nodded, playing with her ring. "For what it's worth, I really am sorry that I hurt you so badly." Monica nodded in acceptance of his apology, though he noticed the half-hearted effort. "Knowing how it ended, how we ended, if you could…would you go back and change it all?" Chandler mused softly. "Ya know, hit yourself upside the head before you went to my room that night in London? Maybe say 'yes' to Richard instead of me?"

Monica laughed softly, knowing that behind the joke, it had been a serious question. "No," she shook her head. "Knowing how it ended, I would do it all again, not changing a thing."

"Not anything?" Chandler asked. "Not even how hard you threw your ring at me?"

Monica chuckled, shaking her head at him. Same old Chandler. "Are you happy? I mean, did you find yourself or whatever the hell it was you were looking for out there?"

"Yes, and yes," Chandler smiled.

"I'm happy, too. And I'm sure we could 'shoulda, coulda, woulda' the crap out of the whole situation without getting anywhere, but we're both happy now, so, let's just leave it at that, okay?" Monica finished as she stood up, and Chandler knew that was the end of the conversation.

"Happy endings are always good," Chandler nodded, standing up as well.

"Well, I'm gonna go see if I can catch up with Rachel quick before I leave," Monica motioned down the hallway, and Chandler nodded, understanding her need to get away from the conversation and away from him. "It was really good seeing you, Chandler," she whispered sincerely, and Chandler tried hard not to get too caught up in the way she said his name. He'd always loved the way she said his name.

"It was really good seeing you, too," he choked out in reply, watching after her as she headed down the hall.

Chandler sighed after Monica was out of sight, running his hand nervously through his hair as he tried to calm himself down. Although that conversation was far from the worst-case scenario in his mind of how a meeting with Monica could have gone down, it had an unexpected impact on him. His heart hurt. It ached, from the memories, from the fact that he now knew that he had hurt Monica, from hugging her, from all of the other events of the weekend compiled on top of that moment that lead to complete emotion-overload.

Picking his cup back up, he sank into the chair, biting the edge of the cup as he stared out in front of him. When Rachel finally came walking down the hall, he wasn't even sure how long he'd been sitting there staring.

"How ya holdin' up?" Rachel smiled, sitting beside him.

Chandler shrugged, sighing heavily. "How's your dad doing?"

"Good," Rachel nodded. "Surgery went well, no complications or anything. Jill, Amy and I are going to take turns staying here with him until he's released," she continued, glancing again at Chandler. "Let's get out of here," she nodded towards the elevators before standing up, Chandler following after her. And this time it was she that took his hand, giving it a slight squeeze of reassurance. Chandler smiled gratefully as Rachel hit the down arrow, ready to get the hell out of that hospital and away from the feeling of running into Monica.

~.~

Chandler frowned at the inbox full of emails in front of him, instead clicking over to the empty word document he had opened. He needed to either answer some emails or write, or, really, do both, so he would have some free time the next couple of days, when he was going home having not yet been decided. Working didn't seem to be working, though, since his mind wouldn't slow down. Though they had stopped for food on their way home from the hospital, his head was still spinning from running into Monica, from being back in New York suddenly seeming so real, from leaving New York years before suddenly seeming so real.

"Don't look so enthused," Rachel sat beside Chandler on the couch, and Chandler laughed, closing his laptop before placing it on the end table.

"I can't concentrate enough to work right now," he smiled as she leaned into him after grabbing the TV remote and switching it on.

"I know. I need to at least go into work and grab a few things tomorrow if I'm going to be gone a majority of this week," Rachel sighed, mindlessly flipping through channels, not staying on any one long enough to really acknowledge what was on. "How long are you staying, by the way?"

Chandler shrugged at the question. "Hadn't really decided that yet. Guess that's the good thing about writing," he smiled. "I can do that from anywhere."

Rachel nodded in agreement, finally stopping on a mindless sitcom, hoping the sound of the laugh track would lift her spirit a bit. "So this weekend completely sucks," she finally said, causing Chandler to laugh.

"Probably the right word to use to sum it up."

"Definitely," Rachel nodded, still focused on the TV, though Chandler running his fingertips lightly up and down her arm was making that hard.

"Monica came to see you," Chandler said quietly. "That's a good thing, right?"

"Yea," Rachel nodded, turning her head to look at him. "I mean, I understand, though. Yea, we're nowhere near as close as we've been in the past, but we've known each other since, like, kindergarten. If something happened to one of her parents, I would be there," Rachel nodded as she thought it through.

"Along those same lines, I think I'm gonna go see Joey tomorrow," Chandler continued quietly, now running his fingertips down from her arm to the side of her leg.

"That's-that's good," Rachel choked out as Chandler pulled her closer, kissing her, and she tried hard to fight off the thought that she could get used to kissing him like that.

Though it was the opposite of how he felt, the kisses tonight were long and slow, not hurried and frantic like the night before. As they lay down on the couch, Rachel melted into the kisses as she unzipped the hooded sweatshirt he was wearing, and Chandler removed it, still not breaking the kiss as he took that to mean she was still okay with this moving farther. Running his fingertips across her smooth stomach, he then reached around her back, unclasping her bra. Rachel moaned softly in approval as he cupped her breast before running his fingertips teasingly back down her body, stopping short of the top of her sweatpants. Rachel unbuttoned his jeans, teasing back as she ran her fingertips across the waistband of his boxers before trailing her fingers back up his stomach, pulling his tshirt up and over his head as she went.

Throwing his shirt to the floor, Chandler bent his neck, sucking lightly on her earlobe before planting small kisses along her neck and jaw line, enjoying the reaction it seemed to be getting out of her.

"Chandler?" Rachel finally said, a final coherent thought of 'he lives almost three thousand miles away' crossing her mind.

"Hm," Chandler replied, still kissing her.

"Chandler," Rachel repeated softly, shifting slightly. "What are we doing?"

Chandler continued his soft kisses, running his lips up the front of her neck, and Rachel tried hard to stay focused, each of his hot breaths on the side of her cheek making that task harder. "Foreplay?" he finally replied in a whisper, and Rachel couldn't help but giggle at that reply.

"Chandler," she replied more seriously, and he finally stopped, sitting up with a sigh. "Not that whatever it is we're doing isn't good, but…."

"We live on opposite sides of the country," Chandler finished her thought as he ran his hand through his hair, and Rachel nodded in agreement. "I don't think it has to **mean** anything, though," Chandler continued. "I think, I think it's just that we've both had a really long, emotional weekend, and we both just need some love," Chandler trailed off, and Rachel again nodded, before leaning in to kiss him again. "Well, you certainly take a lot of convincing," Chandler laughed, and Rachel swatted at his arm.

"Shut up, I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page about this," she grumbled as he kissed her again, making it hard for her to even feign anger towards him as they lay back down.

~.~

_Anyone get who Monica's marrying? Anyone, anyone??_

_Exintaris: I have a whole Monica flashback chapter in the works, since I'm about 90% sure this chapter wasn't enough to placate you :)_

_I think this fic will end up being around 15-16 chapters (a little more than the original 5 or 6 I though, haha). Review, please and thanks :)_


	12. Chapter Twelve

Recovering the Satellites

Chapter Twelve

~.~

_Sorry for the little bit of a delay. Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter, keep it up :)_

~.~ _**2004**_ ~.~

Chandler rolled over in bed, reaching out his arm but finding an empty bed in return. He'd crawled into bed with Rachel around three in the morning after staying up and writing, finding it strangely comforting to fall asleep with her in his arms after all of the events of the weekend. He had half hoped she would still be there when he woke up, but knew she had mentioned going into work that day for a few hours before going back to the hospital to relieve Amy of her post for a few hours, as well. Craning his neck to see the time, Chandler smiled at the post-it note stuck to the alarm clock.

_Sorry to just leave, but you're too grumpy in the morning to wake up. :) _

_Dinner later? Call me when you get up._

_Rach_

Chandler stretched out again, burying his face in Rachel's pillow, thinking he could probably go back to sleep for a few hours, afraid of who else from his past he would run into if he left the sanctuary of Rachel's apartment. However, he really wanted to go see Joey while he was on this kick of making peace with his past. Not wanted, needed. He needed to see Joey.

Or, maybe he needed to go run first. And eat. And call Rachel. And call work.

_Yep, stall Chandler_, he thought to himself as he finally crawled out of bed, looking out the window at the grey day outside. _That'll make seeing Joey that much easier…._

~.~

After doing everything he had earlier proposed to stall and then some, Chandler was finally walking the few blocks to Joey's building. Formerly _his_ building. The air in New York still had the bitter chill of that last bit of winter that was holding on in early March, and Chandler shivered as he stuffed his hands inside his jacket pockets, suddenly missing the weather back home. At that thought, Chandler almost stopped walking. New York was no longer 'home.' It didn't even feel like he was coming back home, like it felt when he'd visited either of his parents when he was in college, but more like he was invading a place he had left and was no longer welcomed. When he ran through Central Park earlier, he realized it had lost its familiar feeling, and even just walking down his old street now felt eerie, not nostalgic.

Maybe whoever said that you can never go back home was right. 'Home' inevitably changes. You can't come back to the home you left; it simply no longer exists.

Long before he was ready, Chandler found himself in front of the familiar apartment building. His and Joey's former building. His and Monica's former building. A place that for nearly ten years had been his home. Heart in his throat, he suddenly found that standing there, staring up at their balcony hurt almost as badly as seeing Monica again had hurt the day before. Hell, it hurt as badly as seeing Mary earlier that weekend, and those wounds were still fresh, not three years old.

Taking a random shot in the dark, he entered the old code on the key pad to the intercom system, laughing when the door buzzed open. At least _some_ things don't change. Taking a deep breath, but then regretting it as the cold air stung his lungs, he opened the door, slowly walking in and heading towards the staircase. He walked up one flight of stairs, and then another, and before he was ready to be, he found himself in-between apartments nineteen and twenty.

Chandler swallowed the lump in his throat, blinking hard to keep the tears away that threatened. Why was this so hard? Why was this as hard as it was seeing Monica the day before? Why-

Chandler jumped as he heard the chain and lock being undone on the door to apartment nineteen. Joey was coming. There was no backing out now, no time to even figure out his feelings before talking to Joey.

"Chandler?" Joey said, surprised, as he opened the door.

"He-hey, Joe," Chandler smiled. "Surprise?" he offered, realizing that he probably should have called, seeing the backpack Joey was carrying and realizing he was on his way out. "Is this not a good time? I can go. I'll-"

"No-no, it's fine," Joey moved out of the doorway, letting Chandler in as he dropped his bag. "I have a few minutes before I need to leave."

"Thanks," Chandler muttered, moving past Joey, who closed the door as the two men stood in awkward silence. Chandler scuffed his foot nervously, and Joey smiled at the familiar action, heading over to the fridge.

"Beer?" he asked, grabbing one for Chandler before he could answer.

"Thanks," Chandler took the bottle, watching as Joey headed to the living room and sat in one of the two barca loungers still in there. It was weird, in a way, the room looked nearly identical to how it had years ago, before he had moved in with Monica. Before he had left Monica.

"Phoebe said you were in town," Joey finally broke the silence, and Chandler nodded, sitting on one of the bar stools.

"Yea, Rachel's dad had a heart attack, and she was staying with me while she was in California on business. She was pretty freaked out, so I came back with her."

Joey nodded, slowly taking a drink of his beer. "Phoebe also, ah, kinda alluded to something else, but…."

"Alluded?" Chandler looked at Joey in shock.

Joe grinned. "Phoebe got me word of the day toilet paper. It's in alphabetical order and everything!" Chandler laughed; maybe not everything about home had changed. "So…?" Joey raised his eyebrows inquisitively at Chandler, who shrugged, and Joey laughed, still able to read him. "Out of the two of us, you would be the one to get both Rachel and Monica," Joey laughed. "Who'da thought?" Chandler laughed, shaking his head as he stood up, moving to the other chair. "I miss this sometimes," Joey said quieter, and Chandler looked down, unable to take the eye contact.

"Me, too," he finally whispered in reply, fidgeting with the bottle in his hand for a moment before looking up. "Look, Joe, I just wanted to say…that I'm sorry. And I know that I've said it before, but…I really mean it," he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you before I left. I'm sorry I just…took off. I guess I didn't realize how badly I was hurting you…."

"You _should_ be sorry," Joey scoffed. "I mean, you were my best friend, Chandler. You were like my brother. And you just…left. You left me like you left your girlfriend. Which is also not cool, by the way, but she's happy now, so that's all in the past," Joey shook his head, getting off topic. "But you're not supposed to do that to your best friend, your brother," Joey again paused. "You could have talked to me. Why didn't you talk to me? I mean, you even talked to Rachel before you left…."

Chandler ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. "I know," he sighed again, exasperated. "And I don't know why I didn't talk to you. I was just so busy running away from my current life, and I was just in such a hurry to get out of here before I lost my nerve, and I just," Chandler paused, looking down. "Those are all excuses. I'm sorry, Joe. I don't know what to say to make it better. I don't know what to say to make up for the past few years. I don't think there even is anything I can say. But I do know that I miss you, and I want things to be better between us. I know we won't just magically go back to being best friends, and we may never be as good of friends as we were before, but…I'm sorry," he shrugged. "And that's all I have."

Joey stared back for a moment, watching Chandler nervously fidget. "Okay," Joey nodded.

"What?"

"Okay," Joey repeated. "I mean, I think you're right with all of that stuff you just said, and it might never go back to how it was, but I don't want to hate you or be mad at you forever, Chandler…."

"Okay, so….friends?" Chandler hesitated, holding his hand out to Joey.

"Friends," Joey nodded enthusiastically as he stood up, grabbing Chandler's hand and pulling him into a hug. "So," Joey grinned as they pulled back, "Rachel, huh?"

Chandler shook his head, laughing at Joey, admiring his ability to forgive him, or, at the least, to move past the fact that he had hurt him in the past enough to want to attempt to be friends again. "Weren't you about to leave?"

"Oh, crap, right," Joey rushed to the door. "Gotta go do that whole 'work' thing."

"I'm only going to be in town for another couple of days, but do you want to grab a beer or coffee or something before I leave?" Chandler followed Joey out the door, staring at the door to apartment twenty as Joey locked up.

"Sure," Joey agreed, turning to face Chandler. "She doesn't live there anymore," Joey nodded towards the door.

"What?"

"Monica. She doesn't live there anymore, if that's what you were wondering."

"Oh."

"Anyway, I need to get going. I'll call you later?" Joey continued as he walked towards the stairs.

"Yea, later, man," Chandler answered, and Joey literally ran down the remaining flight of stairs and out the door, pausing momentarily to give the girl entering the building a quick glance up and down and a 'how you doin'?' before continuing down the street. Chandler laughed to himself as he shook his head at the things that hadn't changed that much after all.

And who was it that said you can't go home?

~.~

_This chapter was going to go on further, but I felt that the Joey/Chandler relationship deserved a chapter of its own :)_

_Also, someone said something in a review about not believing that Joey and Phoebe would forgive Chandler so easily…but this is three years later. This isn't immediately after he left. They are all adults. And it's three years later. And everyone has ended up happy. It's my experience, with falling-outs with groups of friends, that, at least when it comes to your formerly really good friends, you eventually just want to be grown ups about it and be on good terms, even if people have been hurt in the past. Just my two cents._

_Oh, and did you hear, Matthew Perry's new show got picked up by ABC! Anyone else excited?? _


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Recovering the Satellites

Chapter Thirteen

~.~

_I know, I know…two updates in two days? I'm surprised, too. I'm uber-stressed right now. Writing makes me feel better. If this week is any indication of my stress level this semester, expect many more frequent updates._

_And…this has increased into 16 or 17 chapters. Decided to post this chapter after all…Chandler has an entire fic, so I guess Monica can have a chapter :)_

~.~**2001: Day 1**~.~

Monica woke up, stretching out in bed. It was the next day. It was Monday. Although, the night before, it had felt like the world was ending, the next day had come anyway. Sunday night the sun had set, and Monday morning it came back up. The world was moving on even though her world had come to a complete halt.

Her head hurt.

Crying hangovers had to be at least as bad as alcohol hangovers, if not worse, because crying hangovers aren't fun the night before like alcohol-induced ones are.

Her heart hurt.

He was gone.

That fact made her head hurt more, because she couldn't understand, couldn't wrap her head around why.

Why?

That was the only thought running through her head: why? Why did he leave? What was so wrong with their life that he would leave? She thought they were happy. Wasn't he happy? Had he never been happy with her? What signs did she miss? Had he just never been happy in the past fourteen years that she'd known him?

Why?

Why did he leave her?

He left. He left _her_.

Her heart hurt. And her head hurt. Even her freaking eyes hurt.

Why couldn't she make him happy? He was the love of her life, but, no, he was "settling" for her. She was a safety school.

Was that all she was to him?

That couldn't be all she was to him. She knew him better than that.

After all that time, didn't she know him better than that? Maybe she didn't know him at all.

Maybe he never even loved her at all. How could he fake all of that. He couldn't fake the past almost three years, could he? Can anyone fake all of those feelings? Or did he fall out of love somewhere along the way, but she was just too busy to notice?

Her heart hurt. And her head hurt. And her eyes stung. And her throat burned. The human body was not made for hours of crying.

And why did Rachel understand him? Why did Rachel understand how he felt? How could anyone, if she, Monica, didn't understand him, and she knew him better than everyone else? And, more importantly, if he talked to Rachel about all of this, why didn't Rachel come running to her about it? Why did she just let him leave?

He was gone.

Grabbing her cellphone from the nightstand, Monica powered it on, half expecting, or hoping, or praying, there would be messages from him. Messages, plural. Messages saying he was sorry and loved her and they could fix whatever this was. Messages saying that she overreacted and he overreacted and he didn't mean it the way it sounded.

But there were no messages.

Monica squeezed her eyes closed again. Three years, and not even a message. Three years, and all she had was a fucking note that she had torn up and thrown across the room at an undeserving Ross, and a ring that she had thrown as well and still had no idea where it landed.

Three years.

Hell, fourteen years. Apparently the best relationships don't have foundations of friendship after all.

Fuck foundations.

Her heart hurt. And her head hurt. Her whole everything hurt.

He was gone.

~.~**2001: Day 21**~.~

"Get up." Monica was awoken by the sound of Phoebe's voice. She looked up at her, but didn't sit up. "Get up," Phoebe repeated. "I haven't seen you in over two weeks. Ross said you haven't gone anywhere but work. Get. Up."

"Sheesh, **mom**," Monica grumbled.

"Get up, or I'll get you up," Phoebe threatened sternly, and Monica finally sat up with a sigh. "Thank you," she smiled, taking a small sack out of her purse.

"What are you doing?"

"Cleansing your aura," Phoebe explained. "You could definitely use it," she added. "As could your room. And apartment, really," Phoebe continued. "Where are you going?" she asked when Monica started getting out of bed.

"I have to pee, is that okay?" Monica snapped, and Phoebe nodded, so she left the room. Phoebe watched after her sadly, and knowing that Chandler was staying with his mom in California, was half tempted to jump on a plane and go kick his ass for being the one to hurt Monica so badly.

But, knowing Chandler, he was probably beating himself up enough as it was.

"The box, by the window," Monica came back into the room a few moments later, eyes now red. "That's the rest of his stuff that I've found mixed in with my stuff," Monica leaned against the doorframe, wiping her eyes. "The other box is all wedding stuff. I-I don't know what to do with them. I can't bring myself to get rid of them, because," Monica shrugged, "when they're gone, that's it. That's all of it. That's all of him…."

"I'll find something to do with them," Phoebe said softly.

"And there are all of these places I need to call, to cancel things. The museum, the hotel, the band, just…everywhere. A-and I can't bring myself to be that person who has to call and cancel everything for their wedding," Monica continued, now crying. "And that sounds so stupid to say out loud, but I…I can't."

"Done and done," Phoebe nodded her head as she moved towards Monica, giving her a hug. "I'll take care of everything."

"Thanks, Phoebs," Monica whispered. "And I'm sorry I'm avoiding everyone. I just, I can't…I can't," she shrugged. "I can't see Joey without wanting to cry, or you without wanting to cry, or Rachel without wanting to yell at her, and I can't even walk by Central Perk, I just….I can't."

"You'll be fine. It just takes time."

"You're always so sure of everything like that."

"That's because I know that's how it works," Phoebe smiled. "Now, you go shower, and I'm going to get rid of those boxes and make this place a lot happier."

"Thank you," Monica again whispered, walking towards the bathroom, wishing she believed Phoebe in the slightest, because at that moment, it felt like it would never be okay again.

~.~**2001: Day 66**~.~

Monica had dreamt of her wedding day since she was a little girl. She knew every detail of how that day would go, including how she would feel when she woke up that morning.

This was not the feeling she'd had in mind. Of course, having a wedding that was still on had also been a part of the plan.

Although she was starting to move on, starting to try to get over him, the date hit her like a ton of bricks before she even got out of bed. They were supposed to get married today. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, and, instead, she was waking up alone.

Alone.

That's all she ever felt lately. Lonely. She was still more or less avoiding Phoebe and Joey, though Phoebe would stop by every once in a while to check on her, and she'd see Joey in the hall from time to time. Rachel, though, she was avoiding with a vengeance. And since she hadn't run into her, she figured the feeling was mutual. Ross would stop over pretty often, but not for long, since she seemed to have the ability to even drag him down.

At least she had a job that kept her busy a majority of the time.

A teeny tiny part of her missed him, but mostly she hated him. She resented him. She still didn't understand him. She still didn't understand where she went wrong, where they went wrong.

She still hated him for never calling. She hated every letter of the stupid note he left when he left. She hated the ring she had buried in her sock drawer. She hated the sock bunny she found when she was rearranging the furniture in her room. She hated that every once in awhile, she would find one of his CDs in one of her CD cases. She hated the old pictures she had of him. She hated having so many years' worth of memories of him. She hated that he spent so many years building up her hopes only to tear them down in five minutes.

She hated seeing someone who had the same color eyes as him, or hearing a laugh that sounded like his. She hated that one of the movie channels had been playing _Die Hard_ nonstop for the past few weeks. She hated that the _TV Guide_ was still in his name. She hated the looks she got from everyone in her life when she would see them, the pity in their eyes. She hated the day a couple of weeks earlier that would have been their official three-year anniversary.

She hated that this date no longer held any significance.

She hated that she didn't understand why she wasn't enough of a reason for him to stay. She hated that she hadn't been enough to make him happy. She hated him for not being happy with her

She hated _him_.

~.~**2001: Day 178**~.~

"You can't hate him forever," Phoebe said before taking a bite of the salad in front of her. "It's not healthy."

"I don't plan on hating him forever. Just…for the foreseeable future," Monica replied before taking a bite as well.

"And, along those same lines, you can't avoid Rachel forever."

Monica shrugged, looking around the restaurant for a moment before replying, "Watch me."

~.~**2001: Day 249**~.~

"Rachel's family is going out of town for Thanksgiving, but she's staying here," Phoebe pointed out, having stopped by Monica's after work one night.

"Well she's not coming _here_ for Thanksgiving," Ross said firmly.

"Okay, wasn't asking you, Negative Nancy," Phoebe rolled her eyes. "Mon?"

"I wasn't even going to do Thanksgiving. We were just going to go to our parents this year," Monica shrugged in return.

"Oh, come on, please?" Phoebe said. "It'll be just like it used to be! It won't be Thanksgiving if it's not here…."

_It still wouldn't be just like it used to be_, Monica thought, but paused for a moment. "I'll think about it," she finally conceded, though her mind had already been made up. She couldn't do Thanksgiving. Any holiday but Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving had always been the six of them.

Any holiday but Thanksgiving….

~.~**2002: Day 256**~.~

"How's my Harmonica?" Jack asked, leaning against the counter, where Monica was starting to get dinner ready in her parent's kitchen.

"Fine," Monica smiled, checking on the turkey in the oven.

"Are you sure you're fine?" he continued, and Monica shrugged.

"Why wouldn't I be fine?" she asked, opening the refrigerator, but staring blankly inside.

"Have you even been out on a date since Chandler left?" he asked, and at the mention of his name, Monica slowly shut the refrigerator door, staring at it. "I know it must be hard, sweetie, but at some point in time, you have to move on."

"I have moved on," Monica turned around. "I still hate him, but I've made peace with the fact that I hate him. I haven't been on a date because I work six days a week, and we've been short on help for the past six months, so I'm exhausted at the end of it all. I'm fine, Dad," she smiled sincerely, which Jack returned, though he still didn't buy it.

"Have you seen Rachel lately?" Jack asked slowly, and Monica sighed.

"Mom sent you in here, didn't she?"

Jack smiled. "Guilty," he nodded. "She's just worried about you, though, and she knows how you'll react if she asks you about anything herself," he reached out, pulling her in for a hug. "I do think she's right about the Rachel thing, though. You guys have been friends since you were this tall," he held his hand out at waist level. "She might be someone worth making up with."

"I know," Monica sighed. "I think it's more a pride thing now, though."

"Neither of my children are short on that," Jack laughed, and Monica smiled.

"Thanks, Dad."

"No problem, pumpkin."

~.~**2002: Day 294**~.~

Monica stared at the phone in front of her, her enemy of the moment. She wanted to pick it up and hurl it across the room, making it shatter to pieces. Really, though, it wasn't the phone's fault she was having such a hard time picking it up to call Rachel.

She had to let go of this. She needed to let go and move on. If she couldn't get past hating Chandler, she did need to move past blaming Rachel. She had done a lot of thinking and a lot of talking to everyone in her life over the past few weeks, and after New Year's (with some convincing) decided it was her resolution to make peace with Rachel.

It was not Rachel's fault. She did not make him leave. In all reality, she probably had no influence on him leaving, but blaming Rachel was so easy. Placing all of the blame on Chandler or herself hurt too much, but blaming Rachel took away some of that pain.

But, it had been nine months since he left. And she needed to stop blaming Rachel. She needed to learn how to be civil towards Rachel. She needed to relearn to coexist with Rachel. Ross was the only one saying not to, since he knew Rachel still talked to Chandler, but even her mom seemed to think it was a good idea.

Picking up the phone, she began dialing Rachel's work number. One ring. Two rings.

"_Rachel Green."_ Monica paused, having expected her assistant to answer, not Rachel. _"Hello?"_

Monica took a deep breath. It was now or never. "Hey, um, Rachel? Hi, it's-it's Monica…."

~.~**2002: Day 365**~.~

When she woke up that morning, Monica had no idea what the date was. She was working, even though it was a Sunday and she never worked on Sundays, but it was an easy Sunday. People seemed to be in a good mood, maybe because of the weather outside, and she loved her new sous chef. She had even agreed to go on a date the night before that had been set up by her co-workers, and, even though she never planned on seeing the guy again (she could have fallen asleep during most of the conversation over dinner), it had been far from disastrous. The food was good. There was nothing blatantly wrong with him, just not her type. They had gone for coffee afterwards. Nice. She would even say it had been nice. The fact that she described it as nice made her smile, because she was finally starting to feel like herself again, instead of the watered down version of Monica she had been for the past year.

And then she saw the calendar on the wall in her office. And something in the pit of her stomach crumbled. Despite herself, tears welled up in her eyes, and she had to excuse herself to run outside and catch her breath.

He left a year ago today.

Maybe she wasn't as okay as she thought.

~.~**2002: Day 580**~.~

"Hey!" Phoebe greeted Monica, walking into her apartment. "So, guess who I just went out on a date with?"

"Um…." Monica thought outloud, but the first three remarks that came to mind were sarcastic ones that she couldn't force out because, in her head, they sounded too much like Chandler.

"Okay, there are billions of people on the planet, so, never mind the guessing," Phoebe sat down beside her on the couch. "Your soulmate."

"What?" Monica set down the magazine she was reading.

"Yes! And I don't care if you don't believe in that stuff, you have to meet this guy. He is like…the male version of you."

"Okay…."

"Okay, so he's this British guy, and he's totally into food and cooking as much as you are, and he's just so smart, and," Phoebe shook her head. "I can't do him justice in words. You **have** to meet him."

"If he's so great, why don't you date him?"

"Because he's not **my** soulmate, he's **yours**," Phoebe trailed off. "Come on, Mon, you have been on, literally, one date in the past year and a half."

"Two," Monica corrected.

"Okay, being Joey's date to whatever it was you went to with him does not count as a date," Phoebe crossed her arms. "Come on, just meet this guy. Please, Mon?"

Monica sighed deeply, not sure she was at a place in her life where she even wanted to meet her so-called soulmate. But what could going on a date with a guy who had similar interests to her own hurt?

"Fine," she finally conceded. "One date is all I'm promising you."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Phoebe leaned in, hugging her. "You are **not** going to regret this."

~.~**2003: Day 690**~.~

Monica smiled as she got ready for dinner with Don, checking the mirror one last time. She was smiling, actually smiling. She was happy, completely, for the first time in a long time. Something still felt a little off, though, but she chose to ignore it since she was happy and everything was going so well.

When Phoebe set them up, Monica and Don immediately hit it off, finding they had nearly everything in common and more than enough to talk about on one date. So one date turned into two, and two into three, and three days turned into a week, and one week into two, and two into a month….

Then, one night, they had The Night. They had talked about their entire lives, their pasts, she had even talked about Chandler, something she had never truly done since he left. She had moved on from hating him to being numb towards him, choosing to push him as far from her mind as possible. But she talked about him, and Don held her. And Don talked about the girl he had married during college, and how wonderfully disastrous that turned out as well.

That's the night she knew it was going somewhere. The next weekend she invited him to have dinner with her parents. He accepted and even turned the offer around, saying that they should both cook for her parents and have them over for dinner, and Ross and his new girlfriend, Charlie, too.

And that's the night before the night she said she loved him.

~.~**2003: Day 735**~.~

"Coming!" Monica called out as she grabbed her robe, hearing the knock on the door. She had just jumped out of the shower, and since the front door was locked, figured it was Joey wandering over for breakfast, since he had been showing up more and more often lately. "Hey, Phoebs," she opened the door.

"Hey," she smiled. "I'm on my way to work, but I just wanted to drop this off," she handed Monica a couple of folded up pieces of paper. "Just read it. I'll see you later!" she added, and then she was gone.

Monica unfolded the papers, and her heart sank, finding Chandler's picture staring back up at her at the top of a newspaper column. **His** newspaper column, she realized. Unable to help herself, she sank down into one of the kitchen chairs, beginning to read it, and once she started, she couldn't stop. And the tears started streaming down her face, his voice reading the words inside her head.

It was about the points in life where you have to choose whether or not to be selfish, and loving someone enough to let them be selfish at those points.

It wasn't directed at her, like it actually could have been. It was clearly because of someone else. But it hurt. It hurt, and it stung, and, through her tears, she found herself in front of her computer screen pulling up his articles from the rest of the week, and then the rest of the month.

Once the tears started, they wouldn't stop. She had buried him so deeply that she had never let herself get over him, and, all of a sudden, here he was. He felt so real, and she could hear the words in his voice, feel him hurting right now because he was losing someone in his life, and it suddenly hit her: she missed him. She had never let herself be sad. She had moved from hating him to pretending he never existed and never let herself be sad over him.

It hurt. His words hurt. His picture hurt. All of her memories of him hurt.

And that's where Don found her when he came over an hour later, staring at the computer screen with tears streaming down her face, her old engagement ring sitting beside the computer.

And he let her cry, let her be sad, let her miss a part of her life she had never grieved, and, when she was done crying, he was still sitting there.

That's what had been missing. That's what had made her relationship with Don seem incomplete, that she had never let herself get over Chandler. And she told him so, and instead of getting angry or jealous, he was understanding and compassionate. She told him he was too good to be true. He agreed with a grin.

~.~**2004: Day 1074**~.~

Monica frowned as she packed up her last box. Although she was ready to move out of the purple-walled apartment, it was still a sad day. She had spent her entire adulthood thus far in it, and even though it made more sense to move into Don's place, which was much bigger than her own, it was still bittersweet. Although there were a lot of sad memories there, there were far more happier ones, and that made it hard to leave.

In all honesty, though, she was ready to leave, ready to put her past in the past where it belonged and move on with her future with Don. She had practically been living with him for months, anyway, it was the technicality that this was still her place.

They were engaged. He had proposed the week before, having planned on waiting until their first night officially living together, but not able to wait any longer. He'd had an entire elaborate plan involving a gingerbread-house made entirely out of cheese and the ring being inside, but when she got off work one Saturday night, he realized he couldn't wait any longer. He got down on one knee in the middle of the sidewalk at one o'clock in the morning when she walked out the door of the restaurant, and she said yes before he could even ask the question.

So, moving wasn't sad. It was just bittersweet. It was tying up loose ends and letting go. Even though she didn't hang out with her old friends as much as she used to, it was still always comforting when one of them would come through the front door.

Now, it was empty. She had one small box that had been left behind, but the apartment was empty. It felt wrong. She felt like she should call Joey and Rachel and Ross and Phoebe and make have come say goodbye to the apartment, as well. But the five of them hadn't all been together in longer than she could remember, and she didn't want to ruin today by causing a fight.

And so she snapped a few pictures of the empty apartment, set her key on the counter, and walked out the door of apartment twenty for the last time, closing the door behind her and not looking back.

~.~


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Recovering the Satellites

Chapter 14

~.~

_Thank you for the super kind reviews of the last chapter :) They completely made my day! And I'm having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad semester, so…I'm actually serious about them making my day :)_

_This is a bit of a filler chapter…we're nearing the end, though, promise!_

~.~**2004**~.~

Chandler sat on the plane back to California as the other passengers finished boarding, staring outside at the still dark sky. It was early, entirely too early to be awake, and even earlier back home. Hell, it was still nighttime back home. He hadn't woken Rachel up until right before he left to say goodbye, and he could tell she wasn't happy about that, but he didn't feel the need to wake her up at three in the morning when he got up just to drag out goodbye and make it harder to leave. The few sleepy kisses and long hug he got before he left weren't entirely satisfying, either, but he figured that nothing would be.

What an incredibly weird week.

He hadn't even wanted to come back to New York, and now there was a part of him that was having a hard time leaving. It was more leaving Rachel than leaving New York, though, which was really almost as surprising.

His head was spinning from the events of the past six days. Rachel coming to San Diego. Seeing Mary. Kissing Rachel. Coming back to New York. Seeing Monica. Sleeping with Rachel. Patching things up with Joey. Sleeping with Rachel. Sleeping with Rachel. Sleeping with Rachel.

Maybe the whole Rachel thing hadn't been the best idea ever. It was nothing, though. It was just a really long, hard week for both of them, and sometimes you just need that connection with someone else. That was it. That was all it was.

Closing his eyes, Chandler tried to think of anything but Rachel.

His Dad. That's the other thing on his mind. When Chandler joked about going to see Ross while he was in the midst of repairing all of his burned bridges, Rachel had said something about going to see his dad. Because her dad having a heart attack really shook her up, and it made her realize that your own parents have the same mortality as everyone else's parents, and even though he may not be the best dad, he was still his dad, and, from what she heard, not a horrible person, just not a great parent. Chandler had brushed her comments off, but they had really stuck.

He had a feeling she knew that.

What if something did happen to his dad, and he'd never made up with him? Chandler hadn't even seen his father in more years than he could remember. Nora had even nudged him in that direction a time or two, because even though she was not a fan of her ex, he was still Chandler's father. And even though he didn't speak to his mom that often, either, he did still talk to her and see her from time to time. His dad, though…High school? Had he even seen him since he graduated form high school? Did he see him a couple of times in college, or had he still been in high school the last time he saw him?

Maybe he was old enough that he needed to get over his past with his dad and talk to him. Because the thought of never making up with him left a terrible taste in his mouth and a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach he couldn't avoid.

Maybe he should have just bought a plane ticket to Vegas instead of San Diego.

~.~

Rachel sat at work, staring at her computer screen as she tried to catch up on her work from the past week. Truthfully, though, she was thinking about Chandler. She had tried pretty hard not to get too attached to having him there, but she found that Chandler was very easy to get used to having around, and she wondered why she hadn't noticed that about him a long time ago, years ago. Before he had left, before he had dated Monica, before she had dated Ross. Why had she never noticed that side of him that was so easy to fall into?

Maybe it was because he was more grown up now. Or because she was. Or, more likely, because they had both done a great deal of growing up in the past few years.

Too bad they were so far away from each other. They were three thousand miles apart and ten years too late. There was too much history there for them to work, even if they did live on the same side of the country. But they were on opposite sides of the country, so that wasn't something that needed to be dealt with, anyway.

So, for the week that he was there, she just enjoyed the fact that he was easy to fall into. Or fall for. Or just be close to. Because, in all honesty, he was her best friend at that point in time, had been for the past few years. After Chandler left and their group fell apart, Rachel had thrown herself into her work. Though it had led to a few promotions, and along with them, more and more responsibilities at work, she found the biggest aspect of her social life as of late was actually being at work. And that included dating. Her biggest relationship of the last few years was with Ralph Lauren, and that was the company, not the man. Most days, she was okay with that, since she was too busy to care otherwise. She loved her job, and she loved the prospect of moving up in the fashion industry, so working all the time didn't usually faze her.

But after spending a week with Chandler, she realized she wouldn't mind having someone to come home to. It had been a long time since she had someone to come home to.

Maybe she just liked the thought of having a relationship. Not specifically with Chandler, but just in general. And now that he was gone, she didn't miss him, she just missed what having him there meant.

Sighing, Rachel reached for her ringing phone. She had too much work to do to worry about this right now, anyway. And that, right there, was why she wasn't in a relationship right now.

~.~

_If I have any ridiculous typos, I really apologize (and please point them out!)…my eyes had a bad reaction to a different kind of contacts than what I normally wear, and my eyes are all dried out and I can't see a damn thing, even with my glasses on. Kinda a pain in the ass. _

_I know this part was short, but keep up the reviews, and I'll keep up the updating :)_


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Recovering the Satellites

Chapter Fifteen

~.~

_I feel like I am hogging Murphy's Law all to myself this semester. Anyone else want to take it off my hands? No? No takers?_

~.~

Chandler stood in the Las Vegas airport, waiting. Waiting for Rachel. That seemed to be a bit of a common theme in his life and on his mind lately: Rachel. He hadn't really expected her to come meet him in Vegas. She had just flown to San Diego two weeks earlier, and it had only been a week ago that he left New York. But after his flight back to San Diego, he'd decided that he really did need to go make up with his dad. And, after realizing he couldn't do it alone, he asked her to go with him. She surprised him by saying yes, though he really didn't have that good of a reason to be surprised by it. Or, he should just be expecting surprises lately, seeing as every element of the past couple of weeks had come as one.

Since his flight arrived nearly an hour before hers, he'd thought about going and checking into the hotel, but after going back and forth for the entire length of his flight, he'd decided on waiting for her. He felt like waiting for her made it weird, like he was trying to be her boyfriend or something, but after thinking about it, and realizing that even if they hadn't slept together, he still would have met her at the airport rather than checking into the hotel without her, he decided to wait. She flew much farther to get there than he did, so the last thing he needed was to leave without her and make her mad. Not that she would probably get mad or think anything of it either way.

_King of Over-Thinking,_ Chandler thought as he stared at the plane, which had just taxied into the gate.

Of course, if he stopped thinking about Rachel, he would think about how nervous he was to see his dad. He hadn't seen him in a ridiculous amount of time, not that Charles had put much more effort into seeing Chandler than Chandler had into seeing Charles. That was childish thinking, though, because Chandler was an adult now, too, and had been for quite some time. He could have just as easily picked up the phone or even just sent an email to his father. But, the more years that stood between them, the harder it seemed to be to make the first move.

He must really be a grown up now if he was the one making the first move. Chandler laughed to himself at that thought, because, hey, who knew?

As she made her way off the plane, Rachel spotted Chandler before he saw her, but was having no lucking making her way through the crowd towards him. He stood, alone, in front of the chairs at the terminal, duffel bag over one shoulder, and deep in thought. So deep in thought she almost hated to interrupt him, but when the crowd finally began to part, he caught her eye and grinned, patiently waiting for her to make her way over to him

"Hey, you," Rachel returned Chandler's smile as she stopped in front of him, suddenly unsure of how to greet him. Hug? Kiss on the cheek? Actual kiss?

"Hey," he replied, and the two stood awkwardly, only about half a step from each other, both holding onto their carry-on bags. "You know what?" he shook his head, dropping his bag as he closed the small gap between them, kissing her softly on the mouth, his hand finding the back of her neck. Rachel returned the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck as well, both of them pulling back before either one was really ready. "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas?" Chandler trailed off with a shrug, and Rachel chuckled in agreement.

"So I've been told," she nodded. "Although it does **not** apply to weddings," she pointed out with a laugh, as they both picked their bags back up, "learned that the hard way."

"Right," Chandler laughed as well, remembering their last trip to Vegas years earlier. His face fell at that memory, though, because that trip had been the first time he realize he really, truly wanted to marry Monica. Oh, how a few years could change everything…. "Did you check a bag, too?" he finally asked, gathering from Rachel's silence that she was doing some reminiscing of her own from their previous trip out there.

"Nope, all in here," she grinned as she patted her bag. "Proud of me?"

"Wow, how did you fit all of your shoes in one bag?" Chandler teased.

"I only brought three pairs!"

"Three pairs for two days seems only reasonable," Chandler nodded as he laughed.

"Exactly," Rachel agreed. "Now, let's go check in and go eat somewhere, because I'm starving," she grabbed his hand, pulling him along as she picked up the pace. Chandler squeezed her hand, though, pulling her backwards as he stopped walking. Fighting to catch her breath as he pulled her close to kiss her again, Rachel tried to remind herself that it wasn't Chandler she wanted, it was just the feeling he gave her.

Although, at that moment, she was trying hard but failing miserably at thinking of the last person in her life that made her feel anything close to what he did.

Chandler dropped all pretenses. He didn't care. He hadn't seen her for over a week, and he missed kissing her. He'd gotten very used to kissing her, and a week without it had been horrible. He hadn't admitted that thought to anyone else, and was hardly even admitting it to himself, but he had missed her terribly during the week without her. And it didn't matter if it all stopped again as soon as they both got on their respective flights on Sunday, because, at that moment, they were in the city whose motto was "What happens here, stays here." And he had missed kissing her, so, damnit, if he wanted to make out with her in the middle of the airport, he was going to make out with her in the middle of the airport.

"We, um, we should," Rachel stumbled over her words as they slowly parted, and she fought the feeling in the pit of her stomach that she had been lying to herself for the past week, and it wasn't a relationship she wanted, it was him. "We should," she pointed towards the entrance, glancing at Chandler before heading towards it.

Chandler paused for a moment to catch his breath, before quickening his pace to catch up with Rachel. He swallowed slowly; maybe he shouldn't have kissed her again. Maybe he was kidding himself. Why didn't he just leave things as-is?

But then Rachel slipped her hand into his, squeezing it slightly as they continued walking towards the doors, never missing a beat.

And though they made it to their hotel room within minutes, they never made it to dinner.

~.~

Getting ready to go to his father's show the following night, Chandler looked up as the hotel room door opened, slipping on a dark grey dress shirt. "And, how long does it take you to get ready?" he asked Rachel as he looked her up and down and then at the clock beside the bed, starting to button up his shirt.

"I showered earlier and only brought one dress, so, like, five minutes," Rachel brushed off the question with a grin. "But, who cares about that, because guess how much money I just won?!" she practically bounced up and down as she moved towards him. "Oh, I don't wanna wait for you to guess," she cut him off as he opened his mouth. "Three thousand dollars!"

"How the hell did you win three thousand dollars?" Chandler asked in disbelief, now tucking his shirt in. "How long were you downstairs, like half an hour?"

"Yep," Rachel grinned. "And, get this, I won it playing black jack!"

"Do you even know how to play black jack?"

"No!" Rachel shook her head, laughing, and Chandler shook his head at her, laughing as well. "I know, right?"

"Well, good job," he laughed, kissing her quickly. "Now, go get ready. We need to go."

"Sheesh, you're bossy tonight," Rachel looked at him as she moved past him, grabbing her suitcase and taking it with her to the bathroom, though she left the door halfway open.

"Sorry, I'm just nervous about seeing my dad," Chandler sighed, slipping his shoes on. "I just, I don't even know what I'm gonna say. What if he doesn't even know it's me?"

"Chandler, he's gonna know it's you," Rachel replied, stepping out of the bathroom, now wearing a floor-length black dress, slit up to her knee. Chandler stared at her for a moment as she dug through her bag for the shoes she planned on wearing, trying to think of anything other than the fact that as amazing as she looked in that dress, she would look at least ten times better with it on the floor. "What?" she asked as she turned back to face him, slipping her heels on.

"We don't have to go," he shook his head. "We can just stay here for the night…."

Rachel laughed as she walked up to him, kissing him quickly on the lips before leaning around him and grabbing her handbag from the bed. "Coming?" she asked as she walked towards the door, Chandler rooted to his spot.

"Yes," Chandler choked out before taking a deep breath and following her. "You look gorgeous, by the way," he breathed out into her hair as he walked through the door, placing his hand on her lower back.

"You don't clean up so badly yourself, Chandler Bing," Rachel turned to grin at him. "Now, ready to go see Ms. Helena Handbasket star in Viva Las Gegas?"

Chandler sighed deeply before nodding confidently. "As ready as I'm ever gonna be…."

~.~

"How much are you dying for a cigarette right now?" Rachel whispered as she leaned closer to Chandler, standing outside the door to the show.

"So badly that I haven't smoked in over two years because I know it would kill my runs for literally the next month, but, right now, I would totally trade you for a pack of cigarettes," Chandler laughed. "Oh my god, I can't do this," he suddenly swerved out of the line to get in, walking around the corner.

"Chandler," Rachel followed him "We came all this way and you're gonna back out now?"

"No, I just need a second," Chandler shook his head, leaning back against the wall. "Thank you for coming with me, by the way," he smiled sheepishly. "I don't think I've said that yet."

"You're welcome," she returned his smile, reaching out for his hand. "Shall we go?" she nodded back toward the lobby.

"Yea, probably," Chandler nodded, but made no move in that direction, staring at his shoes as he stayed leaning up against the wall.

"Chandler," Rachel laughed in frustration, causing him to smile genuinely as he looked up.

"Chandler?"

They both froze at the sound of his name from behind them, and Rachel could only gather from the look on Chandler's face who it was. Chandler turned slowly towards the voice, taking a deep breath.

"Dad."

"Oh my god, Chandler, that is you," his father, already dressed completely in drag for the show, took a few steps towards him, closing the cell phone that was in his hand. "I wasn't sure if maybe there were some other parents in this world cruel enough to use that same name," he joked, and Chandler laughed, taking a step closer to him as well.

"Surprise?" Chandler said quietly, stuffing his hands deep inside of his pockets. A hug had crossed his mind, but hands stuffed into his pockets felt safer at that moment.

"Look at you, all grown up," his father looked him up and down. "Your picture on top of your column doesn't do you justice."

"You read my column?" Chandler asked, taken back by that. "But how…."

"Nora emailed me about it a couple of years ago," he laughed. "She's pretty proud of you, kid, following in her footsteps and all. Although, if you had to follow in one of our footsteps, I guess it would be hers, since you're here with a pretty girl and all," he nodded toward Rachel, who was still standing a few steps behind Chandler.

"Oh, god, sorry, Rach," Chandler stepped back, reaching out towards her. "Dad, this is Rachel, Rachel, this is my dad," he introduced them.

"Nice to meet you," Rachel smiled.

"No, it's nice to meet _you_," he replied, but then looked down at the rhinestone-encrusted cell phone in his hand that was now ringing to the tune of _It's Raining Men_. "Oh, shoot, I really want to talk to you more, Chandler," he looked at his son, "but I need to go. Show starts in ten minutes…."

"We'll stick around after," Chandler nodded in reassurance. "It's-it's really nice to see you," he added quietly.

His father nodded. "It's nice to see you, too," he replied, before blinking rapidly. "Oh, I don't have enough time to fix all this before the show," he motioned to his make up, and Chandler laughed.

"We'll see you after the show. Promise," Chandler smiled, reaching out for Rachel's hand as they headed back towards the lobby. "Break a leg," he added over his shoulder, and his father only nodded and laughed at that before heading back towards his dressing room.

"You okay?" Rachel asked as she squeezed Chandler's hand, heading towards the entrance.

Chandler nodded. "Better than okay," he smiled sincerely. "Thank you for coming."

"That was all you back there," she shook her head.

"Yea, but I wouldn't have made it here without you…."

"Sure, you would have," Rachel smiled sincerely. "You don't give yourself nearly enough credit, Chandler Bing."

"He reads my column," Chandler added after a moment of silence.

"He does," Rachel nodded as they entered the room. "Told you he wasn't an all bad father…."

"You did," Chandler nodded in agreement as they made their way towards an open table. "Thanks, again, Rach," he added quieter, kissing her on the cheek before they both sat down, waiting for the show to start.

"No problem," she added back in a whisper, trying to keep her mind from thinking the thoughts it was thinking about the man beside her who was supposed to be her friend and nothing more than that, and that she didn't want him, just the feelings he gave her. "No problem…."

~.~

_I have the majority of the end of this written…not complete, by any means, but at least it's down on paper. There are 21 chapters (longest fic I've ever written!). I haven't altered the storyline at all from the beginning, other than being iffy on posting two of the chapters (this one and the Monica one), so I have no idea how I originally thought it would all fit into 5 or 6 chapters, ha…. _

_Also, thank you for the kind reviews :) They seem to be fewer and farther between lately, so I'm more thankful for the ones I do get! Keep it up, please! I know the last couple of chapters have been kinda meh, but we're getting there, and I hope the last few chapters live up to the hype I've built up in my head lol._


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Recovering the Satellites

Chapter Sixteen

~.~

_Listen, do you see yourself in me?_

_We're such crazy babies, little monkey_

_We're so fucked up, you and me_

_(_Recovering the Satellites, _Counting Crows)_

~.~

After they both returned home from Vegas, things had, more or less, gone back to normal between Rachel and Chandler. Though they talked a lot more often than they had in the past, and there seemed to be moments of intimacy or tension or something that was nearly palpable from time to tome, even across the thousands of miles between them, things had gone back to normal. They didn't talk about Chandler's week in New York or Rachel's weekend in Vegas. They didn't talk about feelings or what was there or what could be there; they let it go. Whatever it was seemed to be mutual, but not talking about it was also completely mutual.

So, they let it go.

Didn't talk about it.

Went on with their day-to-day lives on separate coasts, pretending like the last few weeks hadn't changed anything. Talked on the phone every night, emailed funny anecdotes back and forth all day at work, and neither one talked about the fact that they hadn't been on, let alone thought about going on, a date with anyone else in the foreseeable future.

There were far too many miles and complications between them for anything to actually work out. They couldn't be in a relationship from separate ends of the continent. They couldn't be together with so many parts of their past entwined in too complicated of ways.

A relationship also wouldn't work without one of them giving, and they both knew that wasn't going to happen, so avoiding that topic, as well as any that concerned their feelings and what had happened, was happening, and what was going to happen, seemed to be in both of their best interests.

So, weeks went by. And phone calls and emails went on. And that was it. An occasional "miss you" or "can't wait to get to see you again" was thrown in every once in a while, but no commitments to time or place were given by either party involved.

And that was that.

~.~

Chandler frowned at the calendar on the wall, which seemed to be mocking him today, and then at the clock in the corner of his computer screen, which also seemed to be joining in.

He was thirty-five today.

And, no one, other than his mother the night before, had said a word to acknowledge that. No one at work had said a word. Max and Laure, whom he'd stopped and chatted with on the way out the door that morning, hadn't mentioned anything. Neither of his parents had actually called that day. He hadn't even heard from Rachel, and when he called her earlier, her phone went straight to voicemail.

Chandler wasn't even that big of fan of birthdays, especially his. He hated having a big deal made for him, and was definitely the last person to suggest a birthday party of any sort. But…someone acknowledging that it was his birthday or wanting to go out for drinks that night wouldn't have been the end of the world. But, no, it was the one Friday night when everyone else already had plans or left work early.

"Chandler, poker tomorrow night?" Tom asked as he stopped by Chandler's desk, briefcase and jacket in hand as he was leaving for the night.

"Yep, see ya, man," Chandler mumbled, frowning at the computer screen. He opened his email, closing it quickly. Not even an email from Rachel all day. Chandler sighed in frustration as Tom turned back around.

"What are you doing tonight? Gonna be here much longer?"

"You know what? No, I'm not," Chandler shut his computer down, grabbing his jacket and briefcase as well.

"Wanna go grab a drink, then? Max said to stop and grab him if we were going," Tom continued as Chandler stood up, joining him as they headed towards the elevator on their way out for the night.

"Why not," Chandler shrugged, though he was a bit offended that Max had told Tom he wanted to go out for drinks that night but not Chandler. Unless he didn't realize it was Chandler's birthday. How could no one remember his birthday, though? Not even one of his two best friends from the past few years….

"You okay today?" Tom asked as they walked out the door and in the direction of Chandler and Max's building. "You've been awfully quiet and un-Chandler today…."

"Yea, no, I'm good," Chandler shrugged. "Just one of those days, ya know?"

"All too well," Tom laughed as they reached Chandler's building, which was only a few short blocks away.

Chandler unlocked the front door, letting Tom in first before following him up the stairs. When they reached the floor between Chandler and Max's apartment, Tom stepped forward, knocking on Max's door. At the sound of a muffled "Come in," Tom let himself in, Chandler following behind.

"Surprise!"

Chandler stepped back in shock, laughing hard at a room full of his friends and co-workers.

"Yea, you guys would," he continued to laugh, scanning the room. "Completely convinced no one even knew it was my birthday. Way to convincingly blow me off, everyone," he laughed. "Seriously, bastards, all of you," he pointed to the guys he worked with, who shrugged and laughed as well, as Tom walked over to join them. "Thanks, guys," he added more genuinely as he moved closer to Max and Laure, hugging Laure.

"You are too easy to surprise," Laure laughed as she pulled back.

"Definitely easy to surprise."

Chandler turned towards the kitchen quickly at the sound of Rachel's voice, to where she was standing behind the crowd.

"Rach," he grinned.

"Surprise?" she shrugged. "Sorry I've been ignoring your calls all day. I got your voicemail when my flight landed, but didn't want to blow the surprise, so," she again shrugged, and Chandler just grinned as he shook his head, moving towards her.

"Yea, everyone completely had me going."

"Kinda figured," Rachel nodded as he stopped in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Hi," she grinned up at him.

"Hi," he replied, leaning down to kiss her. He kissed her once softly, then again, and again as she wrapped her arms around his neck, each kiss melting into the next.

"Hey, man, get a room," one of his colleagues joked as he patted Chandler on the back as he moved past them and into the kitchen.

"I have one, about one hundred feet that way," Chandler nodded towards the door in reply as he reluctantly left Rachel's lips, deciding it probably was best to stop for now. "Hi," he again smiled down at her.

"Hi," Rachel laughed in reply.

"I'm so completely confused as to how you're here right now," Chandler laughed.

"Laure called. Max got my number from your phone. Your friends here might rival our old group in nosiness," Rachel laughed, still in Chandler's arms.

"Right," Chandler nodded, still staring into her eyes. "God, I missed you," he smiled.

"Me, too," Rachel replied. "Maybe we should move out of the doorway to the kitchen, though," she nodded to the side. "I think we're being annoying."

"It's my party," he leaned down to kiss her once more before letting go completely. "I can be annoying if I want to be."

"Don't think that takes too much effort, though," Rachel grinned teasingly at him before walking into the kitchen to pour herself a drink. Chandler watched after her, smiling for a moment before following to get a drink of his own, leaning into her as he reached for the bottle of wine she had just set down on the counter. She smiled back at him, leaning into him as well.

"Wanna get out of here for, like, ten minutes?" he whispered into her ear from behind, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear.

"Won't they all know where we went?" Rachel asked, turning around to face him as she leaned against the counter.

"Don't really care," Chandler shrugged, leaning in to kiss her again.

"Mmm, let's go then," Rachel mumbled against his lips, pulling on the edges of his jacket.

Chandler grinned, grabbing her hand as he pulled her with him, both of them setting their full glasses of wine on the counter and heading towards the door. Chandler ignored the knowing smirks from a few of the guys from work, needing nothing more than to get through the front door with Rachel.

And the second they were through the door and it closed, they were kissing again, up against Chandler's front door. He dug through his pocket for his keys, never stopping kissing her, over and over, on the lips, throat, ears, cheek, over and over.

And then they were through the door, Chandler kicking it shut behind them as they moved, still kissing, up against the kitchen counter. Chandler lifted Rachel by the hips up onto the counter as she pushed his jacket off his shoulders and he shrugged it off, pushing her skirt up as she fumbled with his belt and then the button on his pants.

"God, I missed you," Rachel whispered as Chandler planted a line of kisses down her neck to her collarbone, running her fingers through his hair as she pulled him back up to kiss her lips, missing the feeling of them on her own.

"Not as much as I missed you," Chandler mumbled back as he unbuttoned the top few buttons on her dress shirt, noting that she was dressed like she left to fly out there straight from work. "Not just this part," he added as an afterthought, deciding that saying 'I miss you' while groping her breasts might not come off in the best light possible.

"I know," she laughed, pulling him closer as she wrapped her legs around his back, getting impatient and wanting to feel him inside her already. "I missed you, too…."

~.~

Rachel and Chandler walked back into Max and Laure's, trying to act less awkward than they felt. Leaving a party to have sex seemed more like something a couple of teenagers or college kids would do, not two grown adults. But they hadn't seen each other in over a month, and not talking about their relationship (or whatever it was) didn't stop the feelings they had for each other.

To both of their relief, no one really noticed their entrance, and they both headed back to the kitchen to again grab their drinks.

"Okay, Rachel, maybe you can settle this fashion-relation question," Laure grabbed a hold of Rachel's elbow as she walked by.

"Sure," Rachel looked at Laure, Max, and another man she hadn't met yet who were standing around talking. Chandler smiled at her, running his fingers across her lower back before continuing walking, deciding he'd better mingle since it was his birthday party and all.

"Okay, she gets mad whenever I wear black and brown together," Max shrugged.

"No," Laure shook her head. "I get mad when you wear a black belt with your brown shoes. Doesn't go."

Chandler laughed as he got out of ear range, not hearing the rest of the argument or what Rachel's verdict on the debate was.

As the night went on and the party dwindled down, Chandler spotted Rachel sitting on the couch, still talking to Laure, both of them laughing. He watched them for a moment before walking over and sitting on the other side of Rachel.

"You know what, I'd better go say goodbye to people as they leave," Laure smiled apologetically. "I'm being such a rude hostess," she added with a grin, before standing up and walking over to the door.

"I like her," Rachel smiled, turning to Chandler.

"Yea, she's sweet," Chandler nodded in agreement.

"So, how was your birthday?"

"Not the worst one ever," Chandler grinned. "Thank you for coming, by the way."

"No problem. You only turn thirty-five once, right?" Rachel grinned. "Jeeze, that sounds old…thirty-five. That's getting pretty darn close to forty."

"You bite your tongue," Chandler laughed, but then leaned back into the couch, becoming silent as he traced circles on Rachel's knee with his fingers.

"Uh-oh, shouldn't have said forty?" Rachel said after a moment, half-joking.

"No, just," Chandler sighed, looking at the drink in his hand. "See, I'm gonna sound like such a girl, but that was actually kind of what I was thinking about all day…."

"What?"

"The whole, getting older and almost being forty, and I just," Chandler sighed, "I always thought I would be further in life by this time than I am now."

Rachel looked at him for a moment, knowing what he meant, but attempting to skirt around the actual issue. "Yea, because, on a whim, becoming a successful newspaper columnist and owning a great condo in downtown San Diego and having a whole bunch of people who love you," she motioned slightly around the room, "kinda sounds like the life of a failure."

Chandler laughed at that. "You know what I meant…."

"Yea, I did," Rachel nodded. "I was just pointing out what you do have."

"But still," he leaned forward, still staring at the drink in his hand as he spoke instead of at her. "I know I was never someone who seemed like I was looking to 'settle down' or whatever, but, truthfully, I always wanted that. I've always wanted to, someday, get married and have a family, and I just always thought it would eventually just…happen."

"Chandler…." Rachel reached out, touching his arm softly.

Chandler shrugged. "I don't know. I just feel like, I knowingly let go of the one chance I had for that, and I don't regret that, don't get me wrong. It just feels like, since then, I might have gotten the rest of my life figured out, but…every relationship I've gone after since then has been over before it even began," he finally finished.

"Chandler," Rachel repeated, and he finally looked up and made eye contact, as if daring her to say that wasn't true, that he was wrong.

When she didn't answer, and he saw out of the corner of his eye that Laure and Max had started cleaning up, he stood up to help, looking at Rachel for only a moment longer before walking away, taking his glass and a few empty beer bottles with him.

~.~

Chandler crawled into bed around four in the morning, cuddling up next to Rachel. He'd gone to bed with her hours earlier, but had gotten up to write since he'd accomplished close to nothing the day before.

"Where'd you go?" Rachel rolled over groggily to rest her head on his chest.

"Writing," he whispered back, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

"Well, I'm glad you came back," Rachel continued whispering, eyes closed. "It was getting cold without you here…."

Chandler sighed as she cuddled closer, closing his eyes as well as he tightened his arms around her. "Yea, it gets pretty cold without you here, too…."

~.~

_I'm in a fantastic mood today :) Love that. _

_Anyway, all of the reviews for the last chapter made my day (AND made me want to continue faster). Yep, I'm bribing you. More reviews means a quicker update :) _


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Recovering the Satellites

Chapter Seventeen

~.~

_Thanks for the reviews and alert/favorite adds! I'm gonna keep trucking through this fic! We're so close, SO CLOSE! And…I've been up since 5 AM, it is now a little past midnight, so…yea, that's all I've got._

~.~

_Message received Monday, April 19th, 2:37 P.M.: _Hey, Rach, it's me. I just wanted to say thanks for coming out for my birthday. I-I had a really good time with you this weekend…. Anyway, just calling to talk, not really for a reason. Call me back when you have time. Bye.

~.~

**From**: maryljohnson3(at)yale(dot)edu

**To**: cmbing(at)sdut(dot)com

**Sent**: April 21, 2004 14:27

**Subject**: 4:00:08

Hey you,

I thought you were the one person who would really appreciate knowing it, so (drumroll, please!)…I finished the Boston Marathon! That's my time. Pretty much average. Pretty much sums up my life….

I have a roundtrip ticket home for June 4th-7th. I have a one-way ticket for August 17th. I'm not expecting anything, not even dinner or coffee or anything, I just…needed to tell you.

Mary

ps: happy belated birthday!

~.~

**From**:cmbing(at)sdut(dot)com

**To**: maryljohnson3(at)yale(dot)edu

**Sent**: April 23, 2004 02:07

**Subject**: 8:58:59

That's what my time would be, although I'm pretty sure they stop timing you after a certain point, so good for you.

Call me when you know all of the plans for your weekend here. We'll have a not a date? You were expecting something, or you wouldn't have told me you were coming home. I know you better than that, Mary.

See you in June.

~.~

**From**: maryljohnson3(at)yale(dot)edu

**To**: cmbing(at)sdut(dot)com

**Sent**: April 23, 2004 05:12

**Subject**: Writing?

You're up late.

~.~

**From**:cmbing(at)sdut(dot)com

**To**: maryljohnson3(at)yale(dot)edu

**Sent**: April 23, 2004 02:14

**Subject**: Only the next Great American Novel…

About to go to bed.

You're up early.

~.~

**From**: maryljohnson3(at)yale(dot)edu

**To**: cmbing(at)sdut(dot)com

**Sent**: April 23, 2004 05:15

**Subject**: I miss Pacific Standard Time….

Touché

Good night, Chandler.

~.~

**From**:cmbing(at)sdut(dot)com

**To**: maryljohnson3(at)yale(dot)edu

**Sent**: April 23, 2004 02:16

**Subject**: Sometimes I miss Eastern Standard Time…

Good morning, Mary.

~.~

_Message received Saturday, April 24th, 5:45 P.M.: _Hey, Rach, it's me, um…You're either really busy this week, or completely avoiding me, heh. I'm gonna root for the former. Anyway, I guess just give me a call back when you get a chance. Bye.

~.~

_Message received Sunday, April 25th, 8:13 A.M.: _Hey, Chandler, sorry I'm just now calling you back. It's been a crazy week...I've just been so busy. God, sorry, that was a blatant lie. I mean, it has been a crazy week, but I've also kind of been avoiding you. Look, I kind of need to talk to you about something, and, well, I didn't want to do it over the phone, but…I think I'm going to have to. Anyway, I really am sorry I haven't talked to you all week. Call me back when you can. Bye.

~.~

_Message received Sunday, April 25th, 2:36 P.M.:_ Tag, you're it, Rach.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Recovering the Satellites

Chapter Eighteen

~.~

_You get another chapter quickly because I am the world's most impatient person, and having it sitting here done and not posted will drive me crazy. I could play the "let's see how many reviews I can get for the last chapter" game and not post it for a few days (pfft, I NEVER play that game…), but…I'm a nice (and by "nice" I mean "impatient") person and am gonna post it anyway. You're welcome! :)_

~.~

"She's pregnant," Chandler looked at Max after playing Rachel's message for him while sitting in Max and Laure's living room, having listened to it and over-analyzed it himself all day. "What else could that mean?"

"Well-"

"Or, she's breaking up with me, but we're not together, so that's not really necessary."

"Or-"

"Or," Chandler again interrupted him. "Nope, those are the only two possibilities I came up with."

"Maybe she just met someone else or something," Max shrugged. "And after the last few months, felt like she should tell you that."

"But that's no big deal," Chandler shrugged. "I'm not her boyfriend."

"Could've fooled me," Max raised his eyebrows at Chandler, who sighed.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Call her back?

"I did, I got her voicemail," Chandler sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm just going crazy here. Why did she even have to tell me she had to tell me something? Why couldn't she just be returning my call?"

"Maybe she thought you'd be mad at her for not calling back sooner?"

"Why do you have to be so rational," Chandler sighed, standing up to pace. "Oh, it's ringing," he looked down at the phone in his hands. "It's her. Oh, god."

"Answer it…."

"Right," Chandler stopped pacing. "I'm gonna," he pointed to the door, heading out and across the hall to his own apartment. "Hello?"

"Hey."

"Hey," Chandler echoed her greeting. "You're totally freaking me out, by the way."

"I know, sorry," Rachel sighed. "Right after I left that message I realized I probably should have worded it differently or not said that in a message or something…."

"So, you do or you don't have something to tell me?" Chandler asked, leaning against his kitchen counter. "Rach?" he added, when she didn't answer.

"I-I do have something to tell you," she replied quietly.

"Which is…."

"Okay," Rachel sighed. "Beginning of the story. Okay, so, I had this job interview with Gucci on Monday, which I didn't tell anyone about, because I didn't want to jinx myself and not get it because I completely didn't think I would, but anyway, it went fine, not great but not horrible. But anyway, the next day, I'm leaving work, and who do I run into, but Mark from Bloomingdale's! Do you remember Mark?"

"Of the whole, 'we were on a break' fiasco?" Chandler answered, thinking he was beginning to see where this was going.

"Yes! Anyway, he works for Louis Vuitton, and I told him about my not so great interview at Gucci, and it turns out that they were actually hiring, too. So, he talked me into going to an interview there, which, again, didn't tell anyone about, but…Oh my god, it went amazingly, Chandler!"

"Well, that's good…."

"Anyway, I got the job!"

"Oh my god, that's great!"

"The only thing is," Rachel took a deep breath, "it's not in New York."

"Oh," Chandler thought about that, thinking she couldn't possibly get farther away from him anyway. "Well…where is it?"

"Paris," Rachel breathed out slowly.

"And, by Paris, you mean Paris, Texas, right?" Chandler quipped, met with silence for a moment on the other end of the line.

"Chandler," Rachel finally sighed. "Paris, France," she said quietly, to which Chandler didn't respond. "You still there?"

"Yea, I'm here," he replied softly, pausing for a moment before finding the ability to speak again. "That's-that's really, really great," he finally added, trying to sound as sincere as possible. "Not at all one of the possibilities in my head for something you needed to tell me, but…great."

"Really?"

"Yea, I mean, you took it, right?" Chandler asked, squeezing his eyes closed as he tried hard to be happier out loud for her than he was on the inside. Thank god it was over the phone and not in person.

"Of course!" Rachel replied, pausing for a moment. "Are you okay?"

"Yea, no, why wouldn't I be okay?"

"Because it's really far away?" Rachel offered softly.

"You're already far away," Chandler forced a laugh. "I mean, this is really good for you, for your career, right? Like, this is a huge deal."

"Yea, yea it is a **really** huge deal," Rachel agreed. "And they're paying for my move and putting me up in a hotel for the first month while I find an apartment, and paying me for relocating. It's really, really great."

"I'm happy for you, then," Chandler forced a smile, hoping that would come through in his voice, instead of the lump in his throat. He had a feeling round-trip airfare from California to France was a bit more than between California and New York. That thought was him kidding himself, though. "When do you leave?"

"That's-that's kind of the thing," Rachel sighed. "The third."

"Of May?"

"Yea."

"That's next week," Chandler more stated than asked.

"Yea, that's next week."

Chandler paused as he rubbed his temples, trying to wrap his mind around the situation. "Can I come see you?" he finally asked quietly, staring at his kitchen floor.

"Yea. A bunch of the people in my department at Ralph Lauren are throwing a bon voyage party for me on Friday night. You can come whenever, though. I'll pretty much just be packing and brushing up on the French I learned in high school until then…."

Chandler opened up his laptop, pausing for a moment while he looked up airline times. "Can I come tonight?" he asked quietly.

Rachel nodded, though she knew he couldn't see her over the phone, trying to keep her tears from coming through in her voice, because, really, she was more excited than sad. Talking to Chandler, though, made it a lot harder. She couldn't imagine how hard actually seeing him before she left would make it. "Of course you can come tonight."

"Okay, I will see you…actually in the middle of the night. I'll just come there from the airport."

"I'll still be up," Rachel replied, still fighting back her tears.

"And, Rach?"

"Yea?"

Chandler paused as he squeezed his eyes shut, again forcing down the lump in the back of his throat. "Congratulations."

~.~

_I have to ask this…did no one see the Paris thing coming? No one? Even with the mentions of the dates and Rachel's dad having a heart attack making this season ten? Oh, and I totally wanted you to think she was pregnant after the last chapter, btw. Glad a couple of people fell for it :-D_

_I'm gonna keep posting as fast as I can write…I love this fic to pieces, but I'm super excited to get it done since I've had it planned in such detail for months, and we're soooo close! Reviews, please and thanks :)_


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Recovering the Satellites

Chapter Nineteen

~.~

_Thank you to both my reviewers AND my favorites-adders! I'm shocked (in a good way) by how many people have this on their favorite stories list (especially considering how many times I have been un-favorite-authored since I started writing Randler…)! You guys rock :) _

_And…thanks to my lurkers. Hi, lurkers! Yes, you, 95% of readers who don't review. It's nice just to know you're reading :)_

~.~

**Monday, April 26, 3:35 AM**

Chandler attempted to make himself sleep on the plane ride to New York, since while he was awake, he couldn't force down the knot in his throat. He didn't sleep well, though, and finally pulled out his ipod, hoping that music blasting in his ears would drown out some of his own thoughts.

All of his music seemed to be sad and mood-appropriate, though. Songs about love or lost love or unrequited love or being left or missing someone. Songs laced with heartbreak and yearning. Pulling his headphones out of his ears, he sighed.

He shouldn't be this upset. Rachel was not his. She was not his girlfriend. She was not his to get attached to. She was his friend. She just got the most amazing job offer of her life. He should be happy for her.

Part of him was genuinely happy for her, because he knew how much that kind of job offer meant, what getting your dream job meant. And he knew that leaving home and moving far away could also lead to amazing things.

But she was _Rachel_. And he had gotten very attached to her in the past few months. Actually, he had gotten pretty attached to her in the past few years, but the past few months were making the thought of her leaving completely gut-wrenching.

Yet, there wasn't a fiber of his being that would be willing to ask her not to go. There wasn't a single piece of him that would stop her from pursuing her dream.

The moment he realized that was the moment the "L" word popped into his mind, and the moment he had to close his eyes as he felt tears threatening. It also happened to be the moment the plane started its descent over New York, and though he couldn't wait to see Rachel, he prayed for the worst traffic in the world in the middle of the night, because he needed much more time to compose himself than the taxi ride to Rachel's apartment would surely allow.

~.~

**Monday, April 26, 4:18 AM**

Rachel sighed as she looked around her apartment. A week earlier, she never would have dreamed of leaving anytime soon. Now, though, there were brown boxes and bubble wrap scattered everywhere, and the pieces of her apartment that made it home were slowly disappearing into those boxes.

This was really happening.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Rachel made her way over to the couch, clearing a couple of boxes off as she sat down, putting her head in her hands as she leaned her elbows against her knees. Though she had thought of Chandler, and what taking this job meant for the two of them, she had been holding it together until she actually talked to him. Now that she had, the rest of the day had been torturous.

The thought of not being able to see him, even only as often as she did now, or talk to him on the phone every day hurt in the pit of her stomach. Not taking this job, though, this amazing job that she had worked her ass off the past few years for, and that, ten years earlier, she never would have even dreamt was possible, left the same feeling.

Chandler wasn't her boyfriend. He wasn't hers to keep. He couldn't be her reason not to go, because he was already a long plane ride away. He couldn't be her reason not to go. He couldn't be anything more than her friend, even if it hurt to leave a friend as well.

At the sound of a soft knock on the door, Rachel jumped up, knowing exactly who it was. She made her way around the boxes scattered throughout the living room, opening the door slowly. Neither one of them said a word for a moment, just standing there, but Chandler forced a small smile at how cute Rachel looked in her sweatpants and what was actually his tshirt, hair piled into a loose ponytail. At that moment, he wanted to say fuck all of the reasons he tried to tell himself on the plane that this was best for her and get down on his knees and beg her not to go. Or get down on one knee and ask an entirely different question.

Rachel tried to return the small smile Chandler offered, but failed, the look in his eyes breaking her heart.

Stepping forward, Chandler dropped his bag to the ground, wrapping his arms around her tightly, and Rachel gladly accepted, burying her face in his chest.

He was just her friend. He couldn't be her reason not to go. He couldn't be her reason not to go. He couldn't be her reason not to go.

Rachel repeated that thought to herself over and over again, trying to force herself to believe it. When he was on the other side of the country, it was easy to tell herself that. But now that he was holding her, it was anything but.

"Tu me manques," Rachel finally choked out, and Chandler laughed, pulling back.

"You already miss me?"

"Damnit, I don't remember tenses," Rachel laughed, wiping her eyes as she pulled back as well. "I knew I should have paid attention in French class junior year instead of doing my nails in class…."

"Well, you can just be one of those arrogant Americans who expects everyone to speak English," Chandler offered quietly, and Rachel again laughed, moving out of the doorway so he could step in.

Once the door was closed, she leaned against it, arms crossed, eyes red as she held back tears. "I don't wanna think or talk or…anything tonight," she whispered, shaking her head slowly from side to side. "I just want to go to bed."

"Me, too," Chandler nodded, and Rachel stood up straight, wrapping her arm around his waist as they made their way around the boxes and into her bedroom, Rachel attempting to swallow the knot in her throat as Chandler leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

_He can't be your reason not to go…._

~.~

**Wednesday, April 28, 12:07 PM**

"I can't believe I'm all packed already," Rachel looked around. "Or as much as I can be, anyway," she sat down on her couch, which would only be there for a few more days, as well. At dinner with her mother the night before, her mother had offered to let Rachel store her furniture and anything else she wasn't taking at her house until Rachel decided what to do with it.

"So, what do you want to do today?" Chandler asked, sitting down beside her. They had spent every possible moment together for the past two days, and though they had both composed themselves since Chandler's arrival, they hadn't really talked about Rachel leaving or what kind of feelings they had for each other. They both knew the talk was coming, but there was no reason to ruin the rest of their last week together.

"This is going to sound completely stupid," Rachel grinned sheepishly. "But, I…kind of want to go be all tourist-y and see all of New York before I leave…."

Chandler shook his head. "Doesn't sound stupid at all. We'll even find you an 'I heart New York' tshirt and one of those Statue of Liberty crown things," Chandler motioned to his head, making Rachel laugh.

"Maybe even Central Perk?" she then added quietly, having not been there in years, and Chandler smiled.

"We most definitely need to go to Central Perk. Ya know, see if Gunther still works there, kick out anyone who's sitting on the couch…."

Rachel smiled. She wanted to thank him for being so wonderful, for spending the week with her, for being so okay with all of this. But saying those words would be opening up the entire conversation that would follow, and she really didn't feel like crying.

No, she didn't feel like crying. She felt like spending the entire day with Chandler, doing tourist-y things in the city they'd both spent the majority of their life in.

~.~

**Friday, April 30, 2:48 AM**

Rachel woke up and rolled over, reaching out for Chandler on the other side of the bed. When she was met by nothing but a pillow, she looked up, squinting at the clock beside her bed before sitting up. She could see the slight glow of the living room light from the hallway outside her cracked door, so she stood up, going to see what Chandler was doing. Slowly opening the bedroom door the rest of the way, she walked down the hallway, stopping when she saw Chandler, sitting on the couch, laptop on lap, chewing on the end of his glasses as he frowned at the screen.

Writing. Writing was what he was doing.

Leaning up against the wall, she folded her arms across her chest, watching him. She was going to miss him in the most indescribable way in the world. The thought of actually leaving, having to walk away from him, brought tears to her eyes within seconds. They both had flights out of New York on Monday, and though Chandler's was a couple of hours later, they planned on going to the airport together. Walking away from him on Monday would be the hardest thing she would ever have to do, she was already sure of it.

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" Chandler's voice made Rachel jump.

"No," she shook her head, making her way over to the couch to sit beside him. "Just couldn't sleep."

"Me, neither," Chandler replied softy, staring into her eyes.

Rachel cleared her throat, looking down. She wasn't ready to have this conversation yet. She still had three more days with him. This conversation couldn't happen yet. "What are you writing?" Rachel asked quietly after looking back up, noting that he had gone back to looking at the screen. She watched as his lips curled into a shy smile, setting his glasses down on the keyboard in front of him.

"Well, actually," he began slowly, "I've been kind of toying with the idea of writing a novel…."

"By toying, you mean actually writing?" she asked, trying to move closer to see what was on his screen. Chandler shook his head, closing the screen slightly. "Right, your whole not letting anyone read it until it's done thing…."

"Not done, just…completely comprehensible to someone other than myself," he smiled.

"Then why won't you let anyone read your columns when you're done writing them?"

"Because they will be in the paper soon, so you can just read them there, and I like to be a pain in the ass like that," he grinned, and Rachel laughed, shaking her head.

"Let me see, then," she grabbed for his computer, but he again shook his head. "Fine," she sighed. "Then tell me what you're writing, at least…."

"Well," Chandler started, first moving his glasses, then closing his computer and setting it on the couch beside him, "it's about four main characters who are all connected through seemingly insignificant events, and they're all in their late twenties, early thirties, and all kind of going through a, kind of, quarter-life crisis…."

Rachel nodded as he trailed off, realizing that's all he was going to share at the moment. "Well, thanks for being ridiculously vague. How long have you been working on it?"

"How long have I been working on it, or how long have I been writing it?" Chandler laughed.

"Both."

"Well, I started kind of playing around with the idea of it and writing little tidbits, god, I don't even know…over a year ago, maybe? And then I was talking to my mom, and she somehow got me to agree to show her some of it, but she, of course, can't keep that to herself, so she forwarded her editor a couple of the things I had started writing and the general concept, and," Chandler shrugged, "that's how that started. I guess I've actually been working on it for," Chandler paused, thinking, "seven months or so?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Rachel asked, slightly offended.

"I didn't tell anyone," Chandler laughed. "That way, if I'm a failed novelist, no one knows but me, my mom, and my editor."

"Chandler, you couldn't fail even if you tried," Rachel smiled sincerely, and Chandler returned it.

"Thank you."

"Okay, now that I'm done with the flattery, let me read some of it," Rachel grinned, leaning across him to try to grab his computer from the other side of the couch.

"No," Chandler laughed, grabbing a hold of her arms in an attempt to stop her. "Seriously, you think you're stronger than me and going to win this?" he asked as she continued to struggle, but he held her off.

"No, I think you're going to let me win," Rachel grinned playfully.

"I'm not gonna let you win," Chandler laughed in return as she continued to struggle, shifting her weight so she was now sitting on top of him. As she began grinding against him, he shook his head. "Not gonna work…."

Rachel just smiled for a moment before leaning forward, kissing first his neck, then below his ear, and then his lips. He feigned indifference for only a moment before beginning to kiss back, loosening his grip on her arms as he moved his hands down to her hips, where she was still grinding against him.

As soon as he let go of her arms, Rachel quickly reached beside him, again for the computer. However, Chandler was a moment quicker since he had been anticipating it, and moved out from underneath her as he maneuvered around her so that she was pinned beneath him, inches from her target.

"I win," he grinned, leaning down to kiss her tenderly on the forehead.

"I wasn't actually going to read it," Rachel huffed, and Chandler laughed.

"I know," he again kissed her. "Better safe than sorry, though," he grinned, and Rachel sighed at her loss. "Tell you what, when I am done, and not done-done, but like, complete rough draft done, you will be the first person, other than my editor, to see it," he brushed a few stray hairs off of her forehead, tucking them behind her ear.

"I guess," Rachel smiled. "You are completely squishing me, by the way."

"How am I squishing you?" he grinned, flattening himself completely on top of her, though still supporting some of his weight on his forearms.

Rachel returned his grin, wrapping her arm around his neck as she pulled his face down closer to her own. "Good squishing," she corrected before kissing him, closing her eyes as she sighed against his lips.

_He can't be your reason not to go_, she again repeated, but she had a hard time hearing the voice in the back of her head chanting that, while the rest of her could think nothing but, _God, I love this man…._

~.~

**Friday, April 30, 6:32 PM**

"I invited Monica," Rachel said as she weaved in and out of boxes between the bathroom and bedroom, getting ready for her going away party. Her apartment was now completely packed in preparation for the movers to come the next morning, and she and Chandler had made reservations to stay at a hotel the next two nights. "Did I tell you that?"

"No, but okay," Chandler replied, coming up behind her to check his own reflection in the bathroom mirror as well.

"I mean, I don't know if she'll even come, but I invited her. Phoebe seems to think she'll at least stop by," Rachel continued, turning around to face Chandler. "Ready to go?"

Chandler nodded, watching as she grabbed her clutch from beside the sink. "Let's go, then," she started to move past him and out the door, but he stopped her, wrapping one arm around her waist, the other hand on the back of her neck as he kissed her hard, passionately, as if his life depended on it.

Rachel kissed back, her heart beating so hard she could swear he could hear it in her chest. Chandler pulled back before she was really ready for him to stop, and at the look in his eyes as she fought to catch her breath, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as her own, she suddenly realized that's what she was doing to him, as well.

She was leaving before either one of them was ready for this relationship to be over. And that's what it was.

But he couldn't be her reason not to go. He couldn't be. She was a strong, independent woman, a fact she was very proud of considering that was she the exact opposite only a decade earlier, and, damnit, a man would not be her reason not to go.

He just couldn't be her reason not to go….

~.~

Phoebe had been right, and Monica did show up to Rachel's going away party, along with Don. While Don sat chatting with Joey and Mike, Monica got up to fill a plate up with food. Staring across the room, she had been watching Rachel. Rather, she had been watching Rachel and Chandler. Rachel was obviously mingling, but Chandler had barely left her side for a moment all night. And now, they were standing in the back corner of the room alone, and though she felt like she was intruding on their moment just by watching, she couldn't help it.

"Hey," Phoebe greeted Monica, grabbing a plate as well.

"Hey," Monica replied. "What's up with them," she nodded towards Rachel and Chandler.

"Yea, good luck getting a straight answer about that from either of them," Phoebe laughed. Monica continued watching them for a moment, trying to consciously decide how badly it hurt to watch her ex-fiancé and ex-best friend together. A year or so ago it would have killed. Now, though, it just hurt in a…weird way. Watching them for a moment longer, she finally turned away from them and back towards Phoebe when it looked like they were about to kiss. "It's not like it matters anyway," Phoebe shrugged.

"Why?"

"Because Rachel's moving to another country in less than three day…."

"Right," Monica nodded.

"I don't know, though," Phoebe shook her head, turning to look at the two. "They-" she started, but then stopped short, realizing it was Monica who she was talking to.

"They what?" Monica looked at her. "I'm fine," Monica shrugged, "Kinda weirded out by it, but fine…."

"You sure?" Phoebe pressed on, and Monica nodded. "They're kind of good together," she finally finished. "I don't know how that worked out. They both finally grew up or something," she shrugged, filling her plate with a few things from the table of food in front of them. "But, I don't think she's willing to give up her dream job for anything, and, regardless, he hasn't asked her not to go. And she's not about to ask him to go with her, because in both of their minds, they're not together…."

Monica turned back to look at them, but they had now disappeared. "He'll let her go."

Phoebe turned to try to spot them again, as well. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because if he didn't," Monica finished, heading back towards their table, "he'd be a hypocrite."

**Saturday, May 1, 3:45 PM**

"It's all sad and empty," Rachel whispered to Chandler, looking around her now empty apartment.

"Yea, it is," Chandler came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her.

"I need to go drop off my keys with the building manager by four," Rachel continued quietly, now choking back tears.

"You okay?" Chandler whispered, kissing her temple.

Rachel shook her head, but then changed that to nodding her head. Chandler laughed. "Me, too."

Rachel took a deep breath, forcing it out slowly through her lips as she took one final look around.

In all truth, the apartment wasn't what she was sad to be leaving.

And they both knew it.

~.~

**Sunday, May 2, 8:37 AM**

Rachel lay with her head on Chandler's bare chest, listening to his steady breathing.

She only had one more day of this.

She kept telling herself he couldn't be her reason not to go, but at the same time, he was the one thing holding part of her back. He was the only thing making her hesitate.

Staring at his face, she traced his jawline, smiling when he began to smile.

"Morning," Chandler whispered, tightening his arms around her.

"Morning," Rachel replied, smiling as he opened his eyes before leaning down to kiss him slowly. "Let's not leave this room today," Rachel murmured.

"You wanna spend your last day in New York in a hotel room?" Chandler asked, slightly amused as he pulled her completely on top of him.

"I want to spend my last day in New York in a hotel room _with you_," Rachel corrected, kissing him again. "Rumor has it," she continued, purposefully shifting her weight on top of him, "that you can, ya know, seven times in one night. So, if we have a full twenty-four hours…."

Chandler laughed. "Well, I was younger then, and we haven't exactly been abstinent this last week, so," he kissed her again, "wouldn't set your expectations too high…."

~.~

**Sunday, May 2, 11:30 PM**

"Know what's not fair?" Rachel asked as she again lay on top of Chandler, staring into his eyes.

"Hm?" he asked, heart stopping at where this conversation was sure to go. They were running out of time to have it.

"That men only get more handsome as they get older, and women just…get older," she touched his cheek before leaning in to kiss him again.

"Are you saying that I haven't always been as amazingly good looking as I am now?" Chandler joked.

"Nice to know you're so self-assured," Rachel laughed. " But, yea, you have always been cute," Rachel kissed him again. "But, you have definitely only gotten more handsome with time…."

"Well, you're hot, but you've always been hot, so," Chandler shrugged, and Rachel again laughed, kissing him once more.

"I'm going to miss you," Rachel smiled as she pulled back, staring him in the eyes.

"I'm going to miss you, too," Chandler whispered back.

Rachel shook her head as she sat up, clutching the sheet in front of her. "You were right, you know. We never really had a chance, did we?"

Chandler sighed, sitting up as well, speaking barely above a whisper. "I don't think we did…."

"It's not fair," Rachel continued, shaking her head. "I just, I can't help but wonder if this," she motioned between them, "was always there and we just realized it entirely too late. But, when would there have been a good time for us to figure it out? We _never_ could have worked out," Rachel continued, staring down at the white sheet in front of her, fidgeting with it between her fingers.

"Unless we figured it out about ten years ago," Chandler laughed ironically, and Rachel nodded. "But," he sighed, running a hand through his head. "I…I wouldn't want to undo me and Monica…."

"I don't think we ever had a chance," Rachel finally looked at him, teary eyed. "I don't think this is meant to work," she finished, barely audible as she held back tears.

"Rach," Chandler whispered in response, placing his hand on her back, but letting silence ensue, as he had nothing to say to that. And though Rachel was again staring down at the sheet in front of her, she could hear the tears in his voice. They sat in silence for a moment before Chandler reached out, pulling her closer.

And he kissed her. First on the mouth, then on her tear-stained cheeks, then on her neck, her chest, her arms, everywhere, trying to soak up as much of her as he could in his last few hours with her.

"I love you," he whispered as he pressed his lips against her forehead, squeezing his eyes shut as he forced his own tears away, feeling hers against his cheek.

"I know," Rachel choked out in return, holding him as tightly as she possibly could. "I love you, too…."

~.~

_Two parts to go, two parts to go, two parts to go!!!_


	20. Chapter Twenty

Recovering the Satellites

Chapter Twenty

~.~

_Well, hello sun-shiny finally spring-esque day outside! Where have you been the past 5 record-settingly cold and snowy months? _

~.~**2001**~.~

Rachel struggled not to spill the carrier of coffee cups she had balanced in one hand, a bag full of sandwiches balanced in the other. Over her lunch hour, she had wanted nothing more than to go to Central Perk, sit down and pretend that everything was normal, and order a triple-shot espresso to keep her awake after the crazy weekend she'd endured.

However, she had settled for Starbucks and a sandwich from the deli down the street, and had ended up taking orders from the majority of people on her floor as well since she wasn't going far.

Things were not going well.

While she really wanted to go to Central Perk, she hadn't even really considered that an option after the day before. After Monica had told Rachel what Chandler had said before he left, Rachel nodded, saying that's what he'd told her the night before, and from the tone of her voice, Monica had gathered that she agreed with him.

Monica flipped out.

Rachel wasn't sure if Monica was taking her anger towards Chandler out on her, or if she really, genuinely felt that betrayed, but angry didn't even begin to describe Monica. There probably weren't enough words in the thesaurus under "angry" to properly describe Monica. When Ross asked Rachel how she could take Chandler's side over Monica's, Rachel had tried to explain she wasn't picking sides, she just understood how Chandler was feeling, that she had been there before.

And then Monica had told Rachel the same thing she'd told Chandler: get out.

And Rachel left. Phoebe wasn't about to be forced to choose sides, so she left without a word to anyone after she finally got Joey to come out of his room. Joey was too hurt and confused to take sides, not understanding why Chandler had talked to both Monica and Rachel before he left, but not to him. So, he went back to his room, which was where he remained for the rest of the day. And with that, Rachel was left alone in the middle of her living room, wondering if her secure group of friends had really just completely fallen apart in a matter of hours.

And the next day, that's how it remained, everyone avoiding each other.

Feeling her cell phone vibrating in her jacket packet, Rachel shifted the bag of food to the hand holding the drinks, stopping where she was walking in the middle of the sidewalk during busy lunch hour when she saw the screen: Chandler Cell. Taking a deep breath, she decided she'd better not ignore it. Flipping the phone open with her chin and her one semi-free hand, she answered the call, trying to keep her voice steady. "Chandler."

"Um, hey."

"Where the hell did you go?" Rachel asked accusingly as she struggled to keep a hold of everything in her hands, nearly to her office building.

"Funny story-"

"No, it's not a funny story, Chandler, where did you go?" Rachel shot back shortly, continuing to walk.

"San Diego," Chandler replied. "I don't know why," he added, as if sensing that question was next. "I'm going to go stay with my mom for awhile," he continued talking when she still didn't respond. "Rach?"

"I'm still here," Rachel sighed as she entered her building, setting her sandwiches and drinks down on a table in the lobby to finish up her conversation with him.

"Rach, I don't know what to do," Chandler added softer.

"Do you want to come back?"

"I don't-I don't know," Chandler sighed. "I don't think so. I just…what do I do now?"

"How am I supposed to answer that?"

"Because you've been here before?" Chandler offered quietly, and Rachel sighed.

"I guess you, at least, figured all of this out before your actual wedding day and didn't show up in some random coffee house in Manhattan wearing a soaking wet wedding dress while your husband-to-be was waiting for you at the altar," Rachel joked, getting a chuckle from Chandler.

"My mother's worst nightmare," Chandler shot back, and Rachel laughed as well.

"But seriously, Chandler, I don't-I don't think I can help you with this. And if you already left, and you haven't even called Monica…there's your answer."

Chandler frowned, closing his eyes. She wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know. "How is Monica?" he finally asked quietly.

"Not speaking to me…."

"Why?"

"Because I understand you," Rachel replied. "Which apparently is a common theme, since that's the reason for this phone call…."

"Is she-is she okay, though?"

"She was more mad than anything last night, but how do you think she is Chandler?" Rachel asked, sounding rather short, and she heard Chandler audibly sigh on the other end of the line. "Sorry-"

"Don't apologize to me, I deserve that and more," Chandler replied, silence again following. "Joey won't answer my phone calls," he added.

"He's hurt, Chandler. You talked to both Monica and me before you left, but not him. How did you think he would take it?"

"I honestly didn't think about anyone but me and Mon," Chandler answered honestly. "God, Rach, I just…don't know what to do?"

"And how am I supposed to fix that?"

"You're not, I guess," Chandler again sighed. "I just…you've been here before. And I just…needed to talk to someone who's been here before…."

Rachel closed her eyes, stopping where she had been pacing. "You move on, Chandler," she finally said. "You have to make a decision, but I think, if you're there, and you haven't bought a plane ticket back home or even just called Monica…I think you already made that decision."

"I think so, too," Chandler whispered.

"Then you move on with your life. And I don't think that I, or anyone else, can help you with that part."

Chandler chewed on that thought for a moment, having needed to hear someone else say it out loud. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Being honest with me. Still talking to me when you have every right not to…."

"Well, I can't just ignore the fact that I've been in your position before…."

"Well, I'm gonna let you go," Chandler finally added, realizing the time back home and that he had probably caught her at work.

"Thanks, my hungry co-workers are probably going to start getting mad that I'm sitting down in the lobby with all of their lunches…."

"Oh, god, sorry, I sure seem to be on a selfish kick lately."

Rachel laughed. "Let me know where you end up, okay?"

"So, that means I can call you again?"

"Yes, you can call me, Chandler."

"Thank you, Rach. I'm pretty sure I don't deserve to have any of you still even talking to me…."

"Yea, well," Rachel shrugged. "Anyway, I really do need to get back to work."

"Okay. Talk to you later, Rach."

"Oh, Chandler?"

"Yea?"

She sighed; part of her felt like she shouldn't be even talking to him. But all she could think of was how scared and unsure she had been after she left Barry, and how having someone there who believed in her, even just a bit, had helped. "I hope you find yourself out there," she said sincerely, referring to her conversation with him two nights earlier.

"Me, too," Chandler sighed. "Me, too…."

~.~

_So…back when I thought this fic would only be a few, long chapters long, having this as second-to-last chapter probably made more sense than now, since I've somehow dragged this fic out for twenty chapters. But, I wanted this to be the second-to-last chapter so….it is. It's a continuation of chapter three, so if you have no idea where it came from...go back and read that?  
_

_Review, please and thanks…I've been working on the final chapter for the past few weeks, literally, before I even posted the last few parts. I might just be a perfectionist, but I'm trying to really get it right before I post it since this fic is ridiculously long…and I'm kind of attached to it and want it to end perfectly :)_


	21. Chapter TwentyOne

Recovering the Satellites

Chapter Twenty-One

~.~

_Well, happy birthday to you guys! I kinda meant the last part to be a bit of a teaser since it was a flashback instead of moving forward…and then I realized how busy I am the rest of this week and weekend, and since I'm finally pleased with this part… I'm posting it already._

_I'm so sad to see this series end; it's a bit ridiculous._

_Heeeere we go…._

~.~

_But we only stay in orbit_

_For a moment of time_

_And then you're everybody's satellite_

_I wish that you were mine_

_I wish that you were mine…._

_(_Recovering the Satellites_, Counting Crows)_

Chandler was the first to wake up Monday morning, his stomach sinking when he did. He didn't even open his eyes, not wanting to know what time it was or how much longer he had with Rachel before she had to leave. So, he closed his eyes, trying, unsuccessfully, to get back to sleep.

"I need to start getting ready," Rachel whispered after a few moments, figuring since Chandler had now shifted his weight a couple of times, he was awake, as well.

"Kay," Chandler whispered, but pulled her closer, neither one of them making a move to get up. When Rachel finally did move, Chandler groaned in protest, feeling the warmth of her skin leaving his.

"Come shower with me," she offered softly as she stood up, heading towards the bathroom. Chandler took a few deep breaths, staring after her. He would not cry today. He wouldn't. "Coming?" Rachel asked, sticking her head out of the bathroom, toothbrush now in mouth.

Chandler nodded, forcing a smile before standing up and heading to the bathroom also, where Rachel had already turned the shower water on to warm up. He grabbed his toothbrush from the sink, as well, standing behind her brushing his teeth.

They looked like a real couple. He could get used to that.

His stomach was in knots. No, he couldn't get used to that. She was leaving. He wanted to cry. He wouldn't cry. She wasn't his to keep; he was fine.

Watching Rachel as she walked over to the shower, she peeled off the tshirt she had slept in, stepping into the shower. Chandler smiled slightly, dropping his boxers to the ground as he followed suit, stepping into the shower, as well.

The second he was beneath the hot water with her, he kissed her. Not hungry and hurried kisses. Not like this was the last time he would get to. Just kissed her. Slowly kissed her.

"I really need to shower," Rachel whispered in between kisses, but didn't object at all when he kissed her once more.

"I know. We will," Chandler replied, backing her against the wall before he kissed her once again, ignoring the scalding hot water cascading down his back as he focused on nothing but Rachel. Cupping her face, he kissed her harder, before trailing his hands down her body, first brushing past her breasts, then down across her tummy, to her hips, and finally to her butt, lifting her up. Rachel helped the best she could, wrapping her legs around his back as he pressed her up against the cold tile wall.

"Chandler," she moaned against his lips, and though Rachel had gotten her wish and they'd already had sex seven times the day before, between the position and the sound of Rachel moaning his name, Chandler knew it wasn't going to last long.

"I love you, Rach," he whispered, head on her shoulder, and after they had finished, he backed up, letting Rachel stand again. Wrapping his arms around her, he moved back under the water, where they stood entwined in complete silence until the water ran cold, at which point they finally quickly washed up.

They got out of the shower in silence, got ready and re-packed in silence, even headed to the lobby and ate their complimentary breakfast in silence. Not because they didn't want to talk, but because they both feared what would happen if they opened their mouths, that talking would inevitably lead to crying.

After eating, they headed to the airport in more silence, and even through security in silence. After checking the flight monitors, they both wordlessly headed towards Rachel's terminal, since her flight was leaving first. The silence they walked in was no longer comfortable, though, because silence left too much room to think, and all of the words left unsaid between them were absolutely deafening.

Once they arrived, the plane was already sitting at the very crowded gate, and Rachel held back tears at the realization that meant it was almost time.

"This is it, then," Chandler finally whispered as they stopped walking, and Rachel could do nothing but nod in return, trying to calm herself down and breathe. Chandler wrapped his arms around her tightly as he squeezed his eyes shut as well, unable to come up with anything to say.

"Please don't cry," Rachel whispered, feeling the tears he had blinked away on her cheek. "If you cry, I'm gonna lose it…."

"Sorry," Chandler whispered, and they stood in each others' arms for a few more seconds before pulling back slightly, both red-eyed. "Look at you, Ms. Green," Chandler finally said, smiling. "Going to work for Louis Vuitton in the fashion capital of the world. Gotta say, did **not** see this coming from the girl who, ten years ago, had never made a cup of coffee or done a load laundry…."

Rachel smiled at that. "Me neither," she shook her head. "Never in a million years. Never saw any of it coming. Not a thing," she added in a whisper, and he knew that she also meant him.

"How's it feel?"

"Surreal," Rachel continued to whisper, looking down for a moment, before looking back up. "Hey, if, um, if Mary comes back," she started slowly, having trouble actually saying the words she had been thinking, "you should-you should marry her…."

Chandler tried to swallow the knot in his throat. This was it; she was letting him go. "It's not really 'if'….Mary is coming home," he finally replied slowly. "Guess that kind of makes me an asshole for knowing that and not telling you that. Or completely intending on seeing her one month from today and not telling her any of this…."

"You're not an asshole, Chandler," Rachel shook her head.

"I have a few ex-girlfriends and an ex-fiancé who would probably disagree."

Rachel shook her head fiercely. "You're really not, though. Because you might screw up, but…you have a good heart. You have nothing but the best intentions…."

"I still feel like an asshole," Chandler whispered, but Rachel shook her head again before hugging him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Chandler closed his eyes, holding her tightly. He couldn't do it. He couldn't let go. Part of him wanted to beg her not to go. Or tell her that he could go with her. He can write from anywhere; he didn't need to be in San Diego. Or they could both stay in New York. Anything that meant not having to watch her walk away and get on that plane.

Rachel tried unsuccessfully to hold back tears, burying her face in Chandler's shoulder. Part of her wanted to tell him to beg her to stay. That she would cave and not go. Or to offer to go with her. To tell her not to get on that plane, and that they would figure it all out together. To get down on one knee and ask what she had just told him to ask Mary.

Standing on her toes so that she was completely eye-level with him, she started to lean in to kiss him, but he beat her, pulling her face closer to his as he kissed her. Hard and passionate, his lips crashing against hers time after time. The kind of kiss that makes your toes curl and that you can feel in the pit of your stomach. The kind of kiss that made both of their stomachs drop and hearts sink because they knew that this was it. And then the kisses were slow, as Chandler attempted to memorize her taste, her feel, her smell. And then little kisses, one after another, until they were again hugging.

"Flight number 421 to Paris is now boarding for First Class," the voice on the intercom rang out, and Rachel choked back a sob in her throat.

"That's me," she whispered as she reluctantly pulled back. Chandler nodded, trying to nonchalantly wipe at his eyes. "Fuck, this is hard," she again hugged him, and he laughed, squeezing her tightly.

"Call me when you get there?" he asked, and she nodded. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she replied before pulling back. "I'll see you in a month or so when I come get Mr. Darcy from Phoebe?"

Chandler nodded. "Yea, just let me know when."

"I have to go," Rachel pulled completely away from him, the look in his eyes killing her as she pulled her fingers away from his.

"Oh, this is for you," he pulled out a large, brown envelope from the outer pocket of his bag and handed it to her. "Something to read on the plane…."

Rachel forced a smile, sticking the envelope into her purse. "I need to go now. Before I can't," she whispered, and Chandler nodded in understanding. "Bye, Chandler," she whispered, staring him in the eye for a moment before pulling her boarding pass out and heading towards the gate.

"Bye, Rachel," Chandler replied, agony almost palpable in his voice, as he watched her walk away, glancing back only once, swearing to god she was taking at least part of his heart with her.

Part of him wanted to stop her, wanted to run after her and grab her and tell her to stay. Or that he would go with her. That he would marry her. Anything that meant not having to let go of her right now.

But the majority of him, of his heart, said to let her go.

She was right. They just weren't meant to be. They had never been meant to be. He couldn't go with her. Or ask her to stay. Even if this was a relationship (who was he kidding; he knew it was a relationship), they were still in the honeymoon phase. They may have been friends for years and known each other the majority of their adult lives, but they hadn't been together long enough for either of them to give up their current life for the other. They hadn't spent more than a week in even the same time zone since they had been together.

Rachel was right. He had been right.

Chandler bit his bottom lip, hard, feeling like a small child at the fact that he was unable to get it to stop quivering.

They weren't meant to be.

Rachel was going to Paris.

~.~

Rachel quickly shoved her carry-on suitcase into the overhead compartment before taking her seat, still holding onto the brown envelope that Chandler had handed to her. Pulling out just the tops of the papers, she smiled, thumbing through them before pulling the post-it note from the top. It was his column for today, as well as the first four chapters of his book. The post-it said nothing but 'I trust that these are in good hands….'

Pushing the papers back in, other than the top of Chandler's column, she sighed, staring at his picture at the top.

"Going home, or leaving home?" the little old lady seated beside Rachel asked in the way that would be entirely too nosy had she been anything other than a little old lady.

Rachel paused; that was a hard question. "I'm moving, so…both, I suppose."

"Leaving someone behind?" she asked, motioning to the paper.

Rachel nodded. "Something like that…."

"Well, it will all work out for the best," the little old lady smiled at her reassuringly. "Life always works out for the best."

"Thanks," Rachel replied quietly, nodding as she stared down at his column still.

"You gonna actually read that, or just stare at his picture? I mean, I'm sure he's handsome and all, but…."

Rachel laughed; this old lady was going to make this flight interesting. "I'm going to read it," she nodded. "Just waiting until they close the door."

"Then you can't get off?" the old lady asked, knowingly.

"Then I can't get off," Rachel agreed with a heavy sigh.

"I'm Ingrid, by the way," the old lady reached out to shake her hand, which Rachel did.

"Rachel."

"I'm going to meet my new great-grandbaby," she smiled proudly, pulling out a string of pictures, and flipping to the last one.

"She's beautiful."

"Life always is," Ingrid smiled, looking down at the picture of the baby. "When you've been alive in nine separate decades, you start to learn that even though everything seems to change, and change is always hard, life is always beautiful," she offered Rachel a genuine smile before putting her pictures away and taking out a book.

Rachel sighed, still staring down at the envelope and top of Chandler's column. She stared at it for what seemed like forever, paying attention to nothing else, not the people brushing past her chair, or the baby crying somewhere towards the back of the plane. She didn't even think anything, just sat and stared, until she felt the plane begin to move away from the gate. Glancing up, she wished she could see inside the windows of the airport. To see if he was still standing there, watching her go, or if he had had to walk away.

No. No, it was better that she didn't have to see him watching her go. Actually leaving was hard enough; at least she didn't have to be the one being left.

This must have been at least partly how he felt when he got on the plane to San Diego, although entirely different circumstances had lead to that.

Finally pulling the paper our a bit further, she read the title. _The Art of Leaving_. And then the first line. '_The art of losing isn't hard to master,' or at least that's what Elizabeth Bishop wrote, anyway._ Rachel closed her eyes; maybe she couldn't read it. She actually knew the poem he was referring to well, knew it by heart. It had been one she remembered having to analyze in some literature class in school, but its words had stuck with her. The poem alone brought tears to her eyes; she couldn't imagine what kind of mess actually reading Chandler's column would reduce her to.

Heart beating heavily in her chest, Rachel stole one last look out the window as the plane picked up speed on the runway, about to take off. She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to watch what she was leaving behind.

Elizabeth Bishop was wrong; losing at least _felt_ like a disaster.

~.~

Chandler stood, rooted to his spot in front of Rachel's gate at the airport. He stood and watched her get on, watched a couple hundred other people get on. He watched as parents juggled to get their kids and bags on, watched as couples in love held hands and kissed, watched as people impatiently checked their watches as they waited in line, as if that would make the line and flight move faster.

And then he watched as they began to close the door, one last straggler running to get on. When the door latched shut, he choked back tears.

He missed her already, and she was still only hundreds of feet away from him.

Taking a few deep breaths, he attempted to pull himself together. As the plane began taxiing down the runway, he took a step back, turning away from the window.

He couldn't watch her leave.

It was for the best. He kept repeating that to himself. It was for the best. It was for the best.

What Rachel didn't know was the he had ordered a cheesecake from Mama's Little Bakery in Chicago, Illinois and had it shipped to where she was staying. He hoped to god she remembered the reasoning behind that move, and that she understood why. He hoped it seemed like a gesture that he would always be her friend, because he had been her friend a lot longer than he'd been more than that, and that was one of his absolute favorite memories with her (excepting the last few months). And if she wasn't his to keep, which was now obviously true, she was at least still one of his best friends.

Taking one small step after another, Chandler pulled himself together, heading towards his own gate.

It would all be okay. It always was okay. He had loved and lost before, and it always ended up okay. Even when it felt like a disaster, it would always turn out okay in the end. Life always ended up okay.

After all that he had been through in the past few years, surely, he thought, this would be no exception.

~.~

_Wipes away tears. That was exhausting. I would apologize to those rooting for a Randler ending, but, well…this is where I was heading from the beginning. I love books and movies with semi-ambiguous, beautifully sad, kind of bitter-sweet endings, and I really wanted to write something like that. Hope you guys all enjoyed the ride, at least! It was quite the emotional rollercoaster to write, and I've poured a ridiculous amount of myself into this fic._

_All of that being said, I'm ridiculously proud of this entire story (am I allowed to say that without being completely full of myself?). I feel like it's so much more grown up than anything I've written in the past, and I hope that I can continue to improve as a writer, because I know that I've already just improved by coming back to writing for the past year (can you believe I've been back for a whole year?! Jeeze, time flies...)._

_I'm not sure what I'll have for my next major series…Mondler or Randler (opinions? Not that I'll probably listen to them, haha). We'll see, I guess. And I'm currently training to run my first half-marathon in May, so much of my extra time/energy is going to running. I will continue writing here, though, promise!_

_Final reviews are VERY much appreciated, since I'd love to know what all of you who haven't reviewed yet are thinking. And a HUGE thanks to my few loyal reviewers who keep me going (and the two who reviewed every single chapter—Exitaris and friendsfan101)._

_I don't own the lyrics to _Recovering the Satellites_ that were used throughout this, and I also don't own _One Art, _by Elizabeth Bishop. You guys all know what poem I'm talking abut, right? If not, go google it. Now. _

_Well, after you review ;)_


End file.
